Into the Fire
by Heretic.Knight.515
Summary: Jack is a normal Halo fan, until he's sucked into the Halo universe. He can't go back-he doesn't know how he got there. He's forced to become a Spartan; although, to be honest, he doesn't resist much. He thinks he's living the dream-for about two seconds.
1. Chapter 1

"Three more laps, kid," George Newton grunted for some reason. H always needed to declare things-in a minute he'd let his nephew know that there were two more laps.

Jack didn't care. He was used to it. Since his parents randomly left, when he was about four, Jack had been raised by his uncle. He was used to his little eccentricities. Like the running, sit-ups, push-ups, and other five AM pre-breakfast things.

George Newton was a combat veteran-six years in the Navy Seals had given him a lot of things to forget. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder was a weird thing, but he'd been considered sane enough to raise a four year old kid.

The running was normal. As were a lot of other things that might be considered non-normal, like a homemade rifle range, martial arts dojo, and obstacle course. In the great state of Montana, however, not only was weirdness accepted, it was expected. Jack and his uncle lived about ten miles from a little backwater town where Jack went to school. And got the groceries, and other worldly things that George really didn't like doing.

"Two more laps, kid," The middle-aged vet grunted. Jack didn't like being called a kid-he was fourteen, for god's sake. But one thing he'd learned out there was that George was not a guy to change his ways. It was easier to adapt, and Jack was fairly comfortable, if bored.

Thanks to satellite high-speed internet, Jack had gotten acquainted with an Xbox and Halo 3. What was initially a here's-this-don't-bug-me-anymore present turned into a hobby that put Jack completely in the gamer clique at school. His room was packed with Halo memorabilia-all the games, books, and posters. Jack wanted to get some Matchmaking in before the school bus arrived, but George wouldn't allow it. Sometimes Jack felt like his life was a stretched-out boot camp.

"Last lap, kid," George said.

After this would be another two hours of exercise before a five minute breakfast, a five minute shower, and then the school bus.

* * *

First period was not something that Jack considered important. It was barely worth staying awake in.

Pre-Calculus.

It was tough, but George didn't accept low grades, and the freakin' school forced Jack into progressively harder math each year. It sucked, but Jack's Xbox privileges and truck privileges depended on As and Bs.

Jack tried to do a mental juggling act-paying attention to the content so he wouldn't fail the test, while at the same time picturing the number of ways he could kick his smarmy, pompous teacher's ass.

He didn't get much math in that period.

* * *

Second period was much better for two reasons: first, the slightly-too-nice art teacher let them get away with pretty much anything, and second, because Jack's best friend Carter was in it. It was a fairly lethal combination.

Jack finished up a watercolor of the Master Chief kicking an Elite in the nuts. It was a creative assignment, and Jack was feeling pretty impressed with himself until Carter, the skinny nerd who got straight As in every class, pulled out a water color of himself with bulging muscles in a dramatic pose.

Jack busted out laughing.

"I give it a nine for quality, but a negative two for realism," Jack said. Carter leaned in close to whisper maniacally.

"At least I didn't draw myself makin' out with Katie," Jack punched him in the throat-not enough to hurt him, but enough to shut him up.

"Dude, never mention that again," Jack whispered furiously. Carter coughed, but still managed to laugh. The period went by far too quickly, considering what happened later that day.

* * *

Third period. Shop class. Jack liked it, and would've loved it had it not been for his fear of slicing off a finger in one of the shop's three power saws. Unrational fear notwithstanding, he still managed to make a kickass birdhouse.

The bell rang, and kids poured out of every class to get to lunch. Jack grabbed a sandwich and sat at the gamer table, occupied by the nerds and nerdettes who proudly worked out their thumbs every day. Jack was the leanest and fittest of them all.

"Dude, you get Reach yet?" Jack asked an awkwardly tall kid, who shook his head.

"Man, you have to. It's the best one," Jack enthused.

* * *

Fourth period wasn't anything special, for the most part. Health class. It was a strange mix of PE, CPR, anatomy, and chemistry. It was taught by a four hundred pound, fifty-something old gal-something that Jack thought was friggin hilarious.

Health's one redeeming feature was Katie. Soft brown hair, expressive blue eyes… and ill-covered c-cup.

Ok, Jack wished it was a little deeper than that. He'd seen how nice she was-always helping people out, always smiling. But Jack couldn't work up the nerve to talk to her, let alone ask her out. He usually spent most of fifth period wondering if she liked him.

But she wasn't in class today, so his primary mode of killing time was gone.

"Mrs. Shutz, can I use the bathroom?" He asked.

"Of course, Jack,"

He got up and left, but he walked past the bathroom. He walked to his locker. He looked through the mess at the bottom for about ten minutes before he found Halo: the Fall of Reach. He'd read it about five times, but it would kill enough time for fifth to end. He slipped it in one of the big thigh pockets in his pants.

He was walking by the bathroom on the way back when he heard a high-pitched scream from from the classroom opposite. He looked in the small window in the door…

And saw three things. In the corner of the room, a patch of the wall was gone. It was replaced by white light. A body lay in a pool of blood near the door.

Three feet away, holding a teacher by the throat with one hand, energy sword in the other, was a massive crimson-armored Covenant Elite.

Jack gasped as the sword stuck in Mr. Sander's gut. The Elite's snakelike head snapped around and growled at Jack. Then it snapped something, and Jack saw a blue Elite that he hadn't seen head towards the door with a plasma rifle.

Jack didn't have time to process anything. He couldn't think about the fact that there was a very real eight-foot tall alien heading for him.

But he remembered what the books and games taught him. The Elite was a fast and agile runner. He couldn't get away. The Elite was protected by an energy shield-he would have to break through that to kill it. And that Elites usually carried a backup plasma pistol.

Jack juked left, ducked low, and scrambled as quietly as he could back right. The Elite saw him go left-and the position of the door's small window meant that the alien hadn't seen Jack go back right. The doors of the school opened out-and to the right. It would give him a little cover.

The door opened and the massive Elite walked out, facing the left, with his back to Jack. Jack saw the plasma pistol on his left hip-and even better, a tiny metal bar that produced an energy knife on the right hip. Jack knew what this was… when an Elite assassinated a Spartan on Halo: Reach, it used a small knife like that.

In two long strides, Jack gathered every scrap of momentum he could. With all the mass of a two hundred-ten pound athlete, he slammed his shoulder into the small of the Elite's back, using his hands to grab the pistol and knife. He set his full hands on the Elite's shoulders and kept pushing, working his legs.

The Elite was massive, incredibly strong, but Jack had put it in an awkward position. It had already been leaning forward and moving when Jack had tipped it over-it was all it could do to not fall over.

In the three staggering steps of the Elite's hooves, Jack had activated the knife and charged the pistol. He jabbed the pistol into the Elite's kidney and discharged it. Green plasma instantly evaporated the stunned Elite's shielding… with a quick, hard jab of the knife in the neck, it was over.

The body fell over with a loud _thump_. Jack froze for a split second.

The red Elite in the classroom must have heard that, even if it hadn't seen Jack rush the blue Elite. That meant it was coming.

With an energy sword.

Jack jumped away from the corpse and charged up the pistol. Instead of using the knife again, he snatched up the dead alien's plasma rifle. He backpedaled-the more distance he got from that sword, the more likely it was that he could survive-

The red Elite left the room, entered the hallway. It snarled when it saw the body of it's subordinate, and the human standing over it. It raised its sword-

Then a green burst of superheated plasma hit it in the head, temporarily blinding it-burning it's skin and mandibles. It roared in pain, before Jack pumped plasma at it in a continual stream. The Elite was tough-it took three furious, slow steps through the fire before collapsing. Jack didn't move any closer. Instead, he took better aim and blew off its head.

Then he stepped carefully around it. Into the classroom.

The teacher was dead. Four students were dead. The rest were huddled in the back, terrified. Some of them were crying-one of them had soiled himself.

"It-it's ok," Jack said. "I killed them,"

They didn't respond. Jack looked to the forward corner of the room-which was replaced by a patch of blinding white light.

"Oh, shit!" He felt himself being _pulled into it_! He resisted, tried to grab a desk-but it was no use. The portal pulled him through.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Here it is, finally, and this time with general MB's stamp of approval. Hope you like it.

Jack carefully set the plasma pistol in a big thigh pocket, with the trigger stub not bumping anything. He didn't know if it had a safety, or if it did, what it would look like. He held the plasma rifle in a stable two-hand grip. He was in some kind of janitor's closet, or something like that. When he moved, he banged his shin against something. He couldn't see a thing-pitch black. But someone heard.

"What was that?" A male human voice asked. The voice sounded muffled behind the door.

"What was what?" A woman asked.

"I heard something from over there,"

"You're paranoid," She said.

_Please don't check_, Jack thought desperately as he was silent and still.

"I'm gonna check it out,"

_Shit_! Jack readied the plasma rifle-but he wasn't sure what he planned to do.

"We've got work to do. Let's go," The woman said.

"…alright,"

Jack let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He waited until he heard steps leading away from the room, waited another ten seconds, and cracked the door. No one was there. He slowly opened the door and stepped out, rifle up and tracking.

No one. He started running down the hall, looking for something, anything, that was familiar.

An arm shot out and caught him by the throat-holding him a foot in the air.

"Knew I heard something," A massively tall Hispanic man said. Jack choked, kicking out, but the guy seemed to be made of steel.

"You aren't ONI, obviously. You aren't one of Halsey's scientists. You sure as shit are not a Spartan. So what are you?" He didn't seem to be breaking a sweat as he held up Jack with one arm.

Jack choked until his vision turned gray and blackness closed around his peripheral vision. Then pain in his back-the guy threw him. Jack sucked in lungfuls of air.

"I said, what're you doing here!" He kicked Jack in the gut, but Jack held on as he tried to pull away. Jack viciously twisted the foot and the tall, top-heavy asshole fell over sideways.

Jack didn't try to get up-instead he scrambled away. He was clearly not the strongest, but he could be the fastest.

"You are so dead, kid," The tall guy spat as he got up, and Jack realized he wasn't a lot older than himself. Jack got in a fighting stance: bent knees, ready hands, on the balls of his feet.

"What the hell is going on?" He asked.

"I'm asking the questions," Faster than Jack could blink, a fist hit him in the jaw. He hit the wall opposite, blinking away stars.

"'S what you get for messing with a Spartan," He grabbed the front of Jack's shirt and raised him in the air.

"Wait, what? A Spartan?" Jack sputtered.

"Damn straight, kid. Now, how did you get in here?"

"In _where_?"

"Don't play stupid, kid. Won't do you any favors,"

"I don't know where the hell I am! There were these Elites, and…," Jack said.

"Put him down, Paco," A femine voice said.

"Fifty creds says he's an Innie spy. I ain't putting him down, unless you mean the fun way," Paco growled.

A willowy, dark-haired woman walked in from the left.

"I know how you feel, but this is something for Halsey and the Chief," She said.

"Sheila, dammit, I have this under control," Paco said.

"No you don't. You tore the stitching on your hip," Sheila said.

Jack saw a bloody splatter against Paco's side.

"Put the kid down. He's obviously not Innie,"

"He's trained! He…," Paco trailed off, like he was admitting something embarrassing.

"What?"

"I knocked him down," Jack said.

"You knocked down a fully trained and augmented Spartan to the ground?" Sheila raised an eyebrow.

"I was kicking him, he grabbed my boot…,"

"Put you on your back. Could you please set me down?" Jack asked.

"He's got to be about our age. Could be a replacement," Sheila said.

"I don't know, Sheila…," Paco said.

"Don't make me pull rank," Sheila said teasingly.

Paco scowled and set Jack down.

"I'll take him to Dr. Halsey. Go get yourself stitched up,"

"Whatever," He walked off.

"So, what's your name?" Sheila asked in a friendly voice, as she led him up the hall.

"I'm… Jack," He noticed that Sheila was almost six inches taller than him.

"Oh, yeah, augmentation really hits your bones hard. I'm still getting used to towering over people," She said.

"So you're a Spartan?" Jack asked.

"Yep. I'm Sheila-132, sniper and leader of Gold Team,"

"Well… nice to meet you," Jack was awestruck. She was beautiful, despite her very short hair.

"Er… ok. You too," She said awkwardly.

"So, uh, that guy's a Spartan, too?" Jack said quickly.

"Paco's still got the heart of a petulant six-year-old. And yes. You only got lucky in there, by the way. We're all still adjusting to the augmentation. Don't let it get to your head," Sheila chuckled.

"You're going to make fun of him for the rest of his life, aren't you?" Jack asked.

"Oh, yeah," Sheila chuckled evilly. "Paco's the close-quarters specialist for Green Team. He's got years of training for hand-to-hand combat. I am going to love rubbing this in his face,"

"So where are we?" Jack asked as they walked.

"Medical Station KL-81, in geosynchronous orbit around Reach. We've all been cooped up in here for… I think eight days. Lots of high-protein meals and exercise,"

"Wow. Sounds fun," Jack chuckled. "But what did you mean, when you said I could be a replacement?"

"A lot of Spartans died or got completely disfigured by the augmentation. There's a replacement program in effect-they've got five or six highly trained Special Forces folks who fit the genetic requirements about to go in augmentation. Help even our losses,"

"But won't a lot of those guys die in augmentation too?"

"Of course. But thirty-five Spartans would be better than thirty-three," Sheila shrugged, looking a little depressed.

"One of your team was lost, huh?" Jack asked.

"…Yeah. Theodore. We called him Ted. Best hacker in the Spartan program. Gone, now. Gold Team isn't full strength-we'll need to bring in a new guy," Sheila shrugged again. "Gold's been together since we were kids. Won't be the same,"

"Maybe you'll get a replacement,"

"Way worse than getting another Spartan. Sure, they'll be augmented, but they won't be one of us. They'll just be a guy in our armor, with our augmentations," They stopped at outside Halsey's lab. Jack took a deep breath.

"You'll be fine. I'll vouch for you," Sheila said as she opened the door.

"Nabbed our intruder," She said to Halsey, who was behind a desk, typing faster than Jack had ever seen anyone type.

"Alright. Give him a sedative and strap him to a gurney. ONI will want to interrogate him, see how he bypassed so much security,"

"He's not the typical intruder. He's, what-" Sheila looked at Jack.

"Fourteen," He said.

"Fourteen. Obviously not an Innie,"

"They recruit younger all the time," Halsey sighed. "I'll handle him, Sheila,"

"Yes, ma'am. Go easy on him," Sheila motioned to a bed. Jack lay down. Sheila grabbed a needle from a counter. He offered an arm-what, she was cute-and she injected him. The world got kinda blurry, dizzy, _fuzzy_-and he was gone.

LBLBLB

Dr. Halsey finished her report. Then she decided to handle their intruder. First, she swabbed the inside of his cheek for DNA, for identification. His pockets had a wallet, an cell phone, and… a book. The wallet had a Montana state ID, with the year 2010 on it. Dr. Halsey frowned.

The book. It had a picture of three armored individuals-one with a UNSC assault rifle, two more in the background. The title was Halo: Fall of Reach. Halsey read the small summary on the back.

Impossible. It was like someone had written a creative but terrible, bloody book based on the near future with actual facts about the present. Halsey looked in the front of the book, flipped to a chapter about her Spartans' augmentations. Insane. But correct. But how did such a disturbed author get to know so many little facts about her Spartans? Things that were classified at the highest level?

And the ID. It was impossible. Ridiculous.

Jack started to wake up. His size made him look older than fourteen, but if her theory was correct, then that was what he was. A kid thrown into a bad situation.

ONI wouldn't see it this way. They would interrogate him and torture their intruder for days before cutting his throat and disposing of the body. Halsey decided right then that she wouldn't let that happen.

"This….this ain't a dream, huh?" Jack mumbled.

"No. I'm sorry," Halsey said.

"How do I get home?" He wondered.

"You might not be able to," Halsey tried to sound comforting.

"How did I get here?"

"I have a theory. It involves quantum mechanics, and it's very long, but I'll just say that I think you're from a parallel universe," Halsey said.

"But… what?"

"At the smallest subatomic level, at the quantum foam, the theory goes that parallel universes interact with each other. In theory micro-portals could have aligned for long enough to fit a human in," Halsey shrugged.

"How likely is that?" Jack frowned.

"Very, very unlikely. A lot of things are theoretically plausible in quantum physics. But it's the only theory I have. I need more data," Halsey raised an eyebrow at a computer monitor.

"What happens now?"

"That's an even harder question. I might be able to sneak you out. As Project Head, I might be able to get you away safely. Where you would go after that, I don't know,"

"You said 'might'," Jack frowned.

"Yes. I give it a fifty percent chance. But if I failed, you would be captured by the Office of Naval Intelligence. They don't take any intruders well-intruders in their most secret projects, even less. It would be assumed that you were an Insurrectionist, despite the evidence to the contrary. You would be tortured mercilessly until you were dead. You would be disposed of, and all evidence of your existence would be gone,"

"I'm hoping for a Plan B," Jack said.

"Well… it says here that you fit many of the genetic markers for augmentation. Hmm. I think I have a Plan B," Halsey shrugged.

"What is it?"

"We've learned a lot from the first batch of augmentations. You don't fit all of the requirements… but I could sneak you into the replacement program,"

"You're shitting me," Jack said.

"No. There would be a chance that you may have complications-"

"Like death?"

"Yes, but I think those can be minimized. You might make it," Halsey said.

"Lemme hear your Plan C,"

"I don't have one," Halsey said. "This is it,"

"So I have to choose between probably dying by slow torture or probably dying in my sleep in the attempt to become a Spartan?"

"Basically, yes,"

"I'm gonna go with plan B," Jack said weakly.

"I'll start right away," Halsey said.


	3. Chapter 3

What he noticed first was the breathing mask. It was over his mouth and nose, connected to the tube running down his throat. The mask pumped air in his lungs, then pulled it out. It hurt.

Jack didn't open his eyes, but he tried to turn his head. The back of his head and neck exploded with pain. He couldn't do anything but stay absolutely stay and wait for it to fade away-but still, there was a dull, warm sensation under his skin. It reminded him of the time he'd broken his thigh skiing, like the morphine. He twitched his finger.

It felt like a tractor had fallen on it. Pain stabbed up into his hand.

_What can I do_? Jack almost panicked and tried to get up. He wanted to pull the tube out of his throat, but he literally couldn't lift a finger.

"Jack, don't try to move," Halsey's voice said.

_ Little late for that_, Jack stopped himself from saying.

"Your augmentation is going fine-but you aren't supposed to wake up yet. There was one complication, but it was resolved quickly,"

Jack was scared. He opened his eyes to find the world was red and blurry.

"Bleeding eyes. Normal. They'll heal in a few days. Your complication involved the protein complex injected in your musculature. They became far too strong, but we were able to augment your bones in time to keep them from breaking or warping. We learned this from a different Spartan, Soren. He's been honorably discharged, but you'll be fine. Better, in fact. You'll be one of the strongest Spartans,"

Jack tried to say something, but it hurt too much.

"That was an hour ago. You'll be out for about two more days," Halsey said as she filled a blurry, red syringe.

She stuck it in Jack's arm. The world twisted and warped. He fell unconscious.

* * *

This time he noticed the tube first. It felt wrong, intrusive. His throat was raw and sore.

_Moment of truth_, he thought. He twitched his finger. It wasn't half as bad as the last time-but it still hurt. Jack decided.

_Screw this_.

In one movement, he reached up and tore off the mask. With it came the breathing tube. He coughed and damn it hurt, but it hurt _good_. This was a pain that he knew, a pain that hit whenever Jack had gotten a sore throat back home. What hurt worse was the combined pain of moving so many muscles at once.

He coughed again, took a deep breath, and swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up.

_Ah_. He sucked it up. Just like after a day of double-practice football at home. He tried to crack his neck, but that was a little too much. He sat down a moment and just breathed for a few seconds.

"You shouldn't be up yet," A lab tech said.

"Always had trouble sleeping," Jack mumbled. And he had. Back home he had a special memory-foam mattress.

"Shouldn't I be in restraints?" Jack asked.

"Yeah. But Dr. Halsey said you weren't dangerous, and you weren't going to freak out," The guy shrugged.

"She might change her mind. Until then, gimme a pain killer," Jack rubbed his temples.

"Sure," He shook some pills of a jar and into a small paper cup. Jack noticed an IV in his arm.

"Can we pull this thing out?"

"Ok. It's for fluids, just saline, but I can get you something to drink too,"

He handed Jack the pills and got a plastic cup of water. It tasted like copper and ass. But strangely good. The tech pulled out the IV.

"Am I a superhero yet?" Jack coughed. The tech laughed.

"Not yet. Your body needs time to adjust to the augmentations. Maybe a day and you'll be fit to head to the gym, a couple weeks of lots of high-protein meals after that, you'll be good,"

"So what, you know, do that augments do?" Jack asked.

"Well, in layman's terms, you'll be roughly three times as strong and fast. You'll have virtual night vision. Your bones are as close to unbreakable as science can get them,"

"Cool. Did Halsey, er, tell you my story?" Jack asked.

"No. But she did say that you're under her protection. Anyone asks, you can say it's classified Level Six. No one'll screw with you then," The tech shrugged.

"I don't know how the doc's got so many balls in the air at once. All this stuff is way over my head-I'm just a medical technician. I've got Level Three, and a Non-Disclosure Agreement that'd take my head off if I said anything,"

"What's your name?" Jack asked.

"Ned," He said.

"Jack," He offered his hand, and Ned shook it.

"Nice to meet you, man. At least I know a couple people around here," Jack said. "And no offense to your official medical diagnosis, but I think I'll hit the gym now, seeing as I've got my meds,"

"Not a problem, Jack. Here's a map of the station. Just don't strain yourself too much-I know you Spartans never listen to that piece of advice, but still,"

Jack laughed as he took the map and headed off. Each step still bugged him, but he ignored it. Following the map, he got to the gym in less than a minute. Small station.

In the gym were dozens of Spartans working out. Jack found himself grinning like an idiot as he walked over to the one face he recognized.

"Hey, Sheila," Jack said. She turned from her place in line to use one of the bench-presses. Jack was slightly surprised to find that he was a head taller than her.

"Oh, hey Jack. I guess you turned out to be a replacement after all, huh?" She grinned.

"I was surprised too," Jack laughed. "So what's up?"

"Just waiting in line. Gold-Two's a hog," Sheila chuckled in the direction of the massive guy working the bench. A British accent laughed back.

"Whatever, Sheila. When I rescue you from an Innie squad by throwing a Warthog at them, you'll think different," After setting the bar down, a familiar face got up.

"Hello, new guy. Name's Jorge-052, Gold's heavy weapons specialist,"

Jack froze for a microsecond. He'd played Reach. He knew Jorge. But he looked so freakin' _young_.

"Hi. I'm Jack… don't have a number yet," Jack shook his hand, noticing that they were almost the exact same height.

"You'll get one soon enough. You just wake up?" Jorge asked.

"Yup. You guys?" Jack asked.

"Eleven days on this station," Sheila said. "It's almost like they think we aren't ready,"

"They're probably just gathering up as many bad guys as they can so we can get 'em in one swoop," Jack joked. Jorge chuckled.

"Naw, the bad guys have been gathering for fifty years. They're as strong as they've ever been,"

"That's why we were recruited," Sheila said. "The bad guys almost outnumber the good guys, at this point,"

"So where's the rest of Gold Team?" Jack asked.

"Over there," Jorge pointed to one of the three sparring arenas.

There were two Spartans-an Asian-looking boy and a woman. The woman moved so fast it made Jack's eyes hurt to try and track her. The man seemed to move half as fast, but he had no problem blocking every shot that the girl aimed. He moved in tight, controlled movements, and his face was a mask of concentration. The woman's moves got faster and less controlled, and the guy was driven a step backward. Then, out of nowhere, she was on the ground.

"Who is that?"

"Our hand-to-hand and zero-gee specialist," Sheila said. "Li-008,"

Jack barely remember Li from the books… he died while trying to repair a power conduit on Ascendant Justice… Jack was pretty sure.

"Wow. Who was that other girl?"

"Kelly. Little bolt of lightning, she is," Jorge chuckled.

"She almost had him," Jack wondered.

"No, she didn't. That's just Li's style. One step back, a fist and foot forward," Sheila said.

"Hmm. Well, I'm headed back to bed. Not really feeling up to getting showed up against you guys," Jack said, and they laughed. Jorge must have heard the nervousness in his voice-he clapped him on the shoulder.

"You'll do fine, Spartan,"

"Go get some rest," Sheila added.

Jack was almost shaking as he walked away. All he could think was: _this is real, this is real_.

_Jesus tapdancing Christ, this is real._

"Which way to Halsey?" Jack asked a random tech.

"Er, keep going. Fifth door on your right," She said. Jack kept going.

He barged right in.

"Hey, uh, doc?" Jack asked.

Halsey looked up from her computer.

"Yes, Jack?"

He plopped into a chair, hurting his back.

"I… I want to go home now,"

Halsey sighed.

"I'm so sorry. You can't," She said.

"This is… this is…," Jack put his head in his hands.

"Hey, hey, it'll be okay. You're a Spartan now. If I'm reading this book right, you're a hero,"

"I'm no Spartan. I'm a goddamn freshman. I'm in high school," Jack mumbled.

"Not anymore. I know it sounds harsh, but you'll adjust," Halsey tried to sound comforting.

"I keep seeing Spartans… remembering that book… thinking how they die…,"

"In your universe, that's how it happens. But things have changed. You aren't in the book. Things can be changed,"

"Are you sure?" Jack asked.

"No. But you'll find out," Jack sighed, and there was a pause.

"I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around the concept that I'm a fictional character," Halsey admitted. Jack chuckled.

"Not in here, you're not," He said.

"Is there anything else, Jack?"

"Yeah… Can you put me in Gold Team?"


	4. Chapter 4

**1835 Hours, September 11, 2525 (Military Calendar)/**

**UNSC Medical Station KL-81, docked with UNSC Destroyer Pioneer.**

"Well, this whole thing has to be a big 'ol hallucination. Every little logical, rational piece of me keeps screaming how retarded I am for even considering how this could be real. Other parts of me want to break out laughing-this doesn't have to make sense for it to be completely and utterly awesome,"

Jack was enjoying the clichéd but comfortable couch. A very serious looking psychologist was writing notes. Jack wasn't sure if she was paying attention, but he didn't really care. It felt good to vent.

"Gold Team's been great for the last few weeks. Think I have a little bit of a crush on Sheila. Jorge is a really funny guy. Li's not much of a talker, but when he does it's usually sarcastic-but the cool part is that he sounds serious. Keeps you on your toes. They're all great, but I can tell they miss the guy I replaced. Jorge almost called me Ted earlier today. Oh, and I got my number. Jack-035. I think I like it,"

"I wonder if my uncle misses me. I know, it sounds terrible, but he's not completely stable, and he's not the kind of person to notice change. He has a mullet,"

The psychologist had the same security clearance as Jack, and Halsey said she trusted her with Jack's story. It was good enough for Jack.

"What's your name?" Jack asked. The woman looked up for a second, raised an eyebrow, then kept writing.

"Eh, whatever. You know, Pioneer sounds really familiar. It's been a while since I read the books, you know, while paying attention to the details, but it rings a bell. I wonder what'll happen," Jack got up.

"Well, I'm going to bed. Gold's got extreme ideas when it comes to the gym. We'll be there by 0400 hours. Hopefully it won't be packed. Man, I'm loving these augmentation, now that nothing hurts. I can read what you're writing with the reflection from your glasses. No, I'm not kidding. Good night,"

Jack loped off, grinning.

**0600 Hours, September 12, 2525 (Military Calendar)/**

**UNSC Destroyer Pioneer, en route to Eridanus System.**

The plan worked, in the sense that the gym had been relatively empty when Gold got there. With teams Blue and Red off for some training exercise with Mendez, most of the machines were unoccupied. It would have been great if the workout had lasted longer than ten minutes before they were mustered to the Pioneer's briefing room with all their gear.

Blue and Red were there. A holographic projector showed a star field in the center of the room. Sheila muttered how she didn't like it-she wanted a pressure suit.

Jack was getting into the military stuff pretty well, thanks to help from the others. When Mendez and Halsey entered the room, he snapped to attention just as fast and just as precisely as the rest. Mendez looked more stern than usual.

_Can't be a good sign_, Jack thought.

"At ease," Mendez said. Nobody moved a muscle-they read Mendez like a book. If he was nervous, then so were they. Halsey stepped up as the holo star field flickered and faded.

"Good morning, Spartans. I have good news for you. The word has come down. Command has decided to test your unique abilities. You have a new mission: an insurgent base in the Eridanus System,"

The holographic display showed a sun with twelve planets.

"In 2513, an armed insurrection in this system was suppressed by the UNSC force-Operation: TREBUCHET,"

_Holy shit_, Jack thought.

A mini-battle played out on the display. Bigger UNSC ships fought off hundreds of small ships.

"The insurrection was put down," Dr. Halsey said. "However, elements of the rebel forces escaped and regrouped in the local asteroid belt. Billions of rocks. Where they hid from our forces… and continue to hide to this day. For some time ONI believed that the rebels were disorganized, and were lacking in leadership. That appears to have changed,"

"We believe that one of the asteroids has been hollowed out, and that a formidable base has been constructed within. UNSC explorations into the belt have met either with no contact or with an ambush by superior forces…

**1200 Hours, September 12, 2525 (Military Calendar)/**

**UNSC Destroyer Pioneer, Eridanus System.**

"This is such bullshit!" Sheila fumed. "Why would they call us all out and not tell us Blue Team was going in until we were all foaming at the mouth to kick some rebel ass? This sucks!"

"It was up to John. He chose to take a small strike team," Jorge said calmly as he took apart and cleaned his rifle for the third time.

"Well, duh, he chose a small team. That's the right way to go. But why were we all there? They could have just ordered Blue to move in. They rubbed it in our noses," Sheila flopped on her cot.

"I don't think they realize how anxious we are to test ourselves out," Li said calmly.

"If they'd known, they wouldn't have called us all out," Jack said. "Maybe they thought we deserved to know about the operation, or something,"

"It's all crap. When do we get to _do_ something? I. Hate. The. Goddamn. Gym. I wanna shoot something," Sheila wiggled restlessly on the bed.

"We'll get the chance. We should just be patient," Jorge reassembled his weapon.

Jack was not nearly as ready for combat as Gold Team. He hadn't trained since he was six. But he was sympathetic. And he knew their craving would be satisfied soon enough. The Covenant were coming. Jack got up.

"Come on, Li, let's go spar," He said. Li smiled.

"No, thank you. My arms are still sore from last time. It would take a brick wall to block you, Jack,"

Jack grinned. He loved his strength-it seemed to make him worthy, somehow, like he was contributing something to the team.

**0620 Hours, November 2, 2525 (Military Calendar)/**

**Epsilon Eridani System, Reach UNSC Military Complex ,**

**Planet Reach. **

The Spartans filed out of the amphitheatre, except John, who was talking to Mendez. Jack looked at his team, wondering how they took the news. They'd just been briefed on the Covenant.

Jorge walked slowly, his eyes wide. He didn't know how to handle the knowledge that an entire colony was gone. Li looked like he always did, except for a slight tightening around the eyes; he was angry. He wanted those aliens up close, where he could dismantle them. Sheila was stoked.

"This is what we're for," She whispered to Jack. "This is why we're here: the Covenant. We're not going to spend our careers beating down rebellions or fighting humans. We're going to avenge Harvest,"

"This isn't about one colony," Jorge whispered angrily at her. "If they can kill everyone on one planet, they can get more. This war is going to be a war of extermination-they'll control space. One of their ships killed three of ours. This is not good. I don't want to think about the civilian casualties,"

"Jorge is right," Li said, "From space, they can do anything they want, and the people on the ground will be defenseless,"

"Then we'll have to kill them in orbit," Jack said. "Boarding operations,"

"Let's hope their infantry isn't as tough as their warships," Jorge said.

"You guys are such downers," Sheila said. "We've got this,"

"Do we?" Li asked. Jack had to change the subject-he might forget what he wasn't supposed to know.

"What do you think MJOLNIR is?" He asked.

"Gotta be some kind of weapon," Sheila grinned. "Something big-I'll bet only Spartans can use it,"

"Could be a new kind of single-ship fighter," Jorge wondered. "Maybe a type so fast and maneuverable that only augmented bones and reflexes could run 'em,"

The team went back to the barracks, Sheila snatching a top bunk, lightning fast, although there were dozens of others, mostly empty. Jack chuckled. She was so weird.

"You know what, I think I want that bed," Jack said to Sheila.

"I don't think so, big dude. You want it, come and get it!" Jack jumped eight feet up and back, his feet lightly touching the opposite top bunk's frame, before launching himself at Sheila in a tackle.

Sheila giggled and dodged, just as fast, and Jack hit the wall, slumping on the bed. He recovered, and started wrestling her. He was much stronger, but it meant almost nothing without something to brace against, or if he could get her in a hold or bear hug. But she was too fast.

It ended a few seconds later when she hugged him tightly and shoved them both off the bed-Jack breaking their fall. Jorge was booming with laughter, and even Li was chuckling.

"Ow," Jack laughed… then he noticed Sheila was on top of him. Sheila noticed too, and jumped off.

"If I can't have it, no one can!" She laughed, and so did Jack, even though he was blushing.

"Settle down, kids," Sam laughed as Blue Team walked in. Gold snapped to attention as John walked in.

"You know, I'm only a Petty Officer Third Class," John said, but he was smiling. "… alright, at ease,"

Everyone eased up and smiled.

Kelly punched John in the arm. "You enjoyed that!" She giggled.

"Yeah, a little bit," He admitted.

"Want anything, sir?" Jack teased.

"I'm good, rifleman. Just looking for a place to stash Blue's stuff before we head out. New orders: every Spartan's going to the Commonwealth, and so is Dr. Halsey. We're going to run a few errands, then pick up MJOLNIR. I'd get ready if I were you, Gold Leader,"

Sheila was still in her dress uniform, sweaty and disheveled from her wrestling match. So Jack thought it was a little funny when she straightened up and saluted.

"Yes, sir," She said.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: This one hits on some subjects I think are pretty important. Give me some feedback.

"Spartans, welcome to Jericho VII," Halsey said with a sly smile. The thirty-odd Spartans had assembled in the antechamber, but with mission specific-equipment. Namely, civilian attire. Jack was looking as military as he could, but couldn't suppress his own smile. Almost everyone else looked ridiculously uncomfortable in their jeans and t-shirts. It was great.

"Jericho VII is a tiny outer colony, notable only for its uranium mines. It is home to three separate rebel factions, more like large gangs, which were usually below the UNSC's notice. Three weeks ago they united under a common leader,"

The holographic display showed an angry-looking middle-aged guy.

"This is Major Orlav, formerly of the Army. With his help, the factions have united into a cohesive military force," The holo display showed the map of a large city. A five-mile circle was covered in red.

"Orlav is apparently a gifted orator. There's a massive rally in four hours-it will end a riot. Your mission is to eliminate Orlav. All of you will then slip out and rendezvous here-"

Several blocks from the target area a green dot appeared. On the opposite side a blue dot appeared.

"Rally point Alpha. If you're not close enough, then Rally point Beta will do. Be advised-resources and firepower on this mission will be limited to Camp Pike,"

A small yellow dot appeared eight miles from the speech, to the north.

"This is to prevent leaks in the command structure. We believe Orlav isn't the only traitor, and the leak will warn Orlav given the chance. This is an ONI mission, but to keep silent, Pike is the only resource base. You will have limited gear-whatever you can conceal in your pockets,"

"There is a Pelican waiting for you. It'll take you to Camp Pike, where you'll get your gear. Then you'll spread out and individually head for the speech," Halsey's smile was gone. Sheila raised a hand.

"With respect, ma'am, why can't this mission be done with ONI specialist personnel? This doesn't seem like a Spartan mission," She shrugged.

"Orlav isn't an idiot. He's got more security around him than most heads of state. Getting in close will be a challenge, but getting out after is more than any ONI specialist can handle. It'll take Spartan skill to get in and out. There's no rifle that can shoot the distance we're talking about, and we suspect Orlav has defenses preventing air support. We could just throw an Archer missile, but scores of civilians would be killed, and it would be a PR victory for the Insurrection,"

"Why not capture Orlav, and root out traitors?" John asked.

"Because we don't think Orlav can be captured. He's very well prepared, as I've said,"

"Any more questions?" Halsey asked. Another Spartan, Randall, raised his hand.

"Do we have to wear this stuff?"

Halsey smiled.

* * *

Out of all the Spartans, Jack appeared the most confident and casual in the civvie clothes. Gold Team had been picked for the first shot at the operation, though the rest of the Spartans were seeded through the place as backup. The rest of Gold Team elected to send him into the crowd to do the deed, while they, in more comfortable pitch-black stealth suits, would move through the third or fourth stories of the skyscrapers surrounding the area, silently killing or knocking out anyone who were in their way.

Jack understood: if things got hot, some high-altitude fire support would be very, very helpful. He understood, but it was still faintly disturbing how little problem Sheila, Li, and Jorge had with killing people.

"How do we know those buildings are sealed off for the event?" Jack asked quietly over the comm. He only had to mutter it under his breath-throat mics and Spartan hearing made it incredibly effective. He only had to look slightly annoyed while he muttered, so the other people in the long line to get in wouldn't get suspicious.

"It's pretty obvious from here," Li's voice muttered back in his earpiece. "They're all locked up and almost empty. I think all the occupants and workers are outside chanting 'death to the UNSC',"

Jorge's rough chuckling crackled in Jack's earpiece like grinding gravel. "People of action always need some mission to get them fired up, or their lives get boring,"

"This is a waste of our time," Sheila said. "There's no one in here,"

"'Cause they're all outside, cheering on the folks who blow themselves up to kill civilians," Li muttered calmly-Jack could tell he was pissed. "There's no difference between these idiots and the idiots who slaughter people by the hundreds. Except balls. At least those idiots have balls,"

"They're people, too, Li," Jorge disagreed as Jack moved up in line. A quick, cut off sound-a snap.

"Tango down," Sheila said, sounding bored.

"They are not. They're Innies. Look at 'em. They want nothing but war and death," Li hissed.

"People are flawed, Li. They don't see the United Earth Government like we do-a vast government that maintains the peace. They see a bloated, corrupt empire that suppresses people's freedom to keep their own power," Jack muttered as annoyedly as he could. He said the last part a little louder than he needed to-the punkish teenager in front of him turned with a raised eyebrow, nodded, and then offered a fist. Jack nodded back and tapped it with his own.

"Goddamn idiots. But they think they're the good guys," Jack muttered quietly as the teen grinned and turned back around.

"Everyone does, in war," Jorge said.

Finally, almost to the front of the line. Jack grinned, though he was nervous as hell. In his baggy coat pocket, he had an M6D pistol, in his left hip pocket, he had an eleven inch combat knife, and in the massively long pocket running down his right leg, he had a fold-out single-shot MA-Covert Ops rifle, with 9.5 mm armor-piercing rounds. All of it was wrapped in ONI 'stealth wrap', a plasticy, sticky sheet that supposedly made things invisible to sensors. All Jack knew it did was smell weird.

There was a _thump_ over the comm.

"Tango down," Jorge said. Jack stopped himself from laughing.

"Jorge, it sounded like you just punched the guy," Jack whispered

"Well, they don't train us as well in non-lethal neutralization," Jorge chuckled.

Two guys with sinister-looking wands started waving them over Jack, who started to sweat.

"Alright, you're clean. That'll be twenty credits to enter," The boss man, who had an intimidating moustache, said.

"That's fascist! You can't charge for something so important!" Jack made his voice nasal and offended-he didn't have any credits. But the words seemed to strike home, miraculously.

"Everyone keeps saying that… fuck it, come on in," The moustache seemed to say. Jack laughed.

_Can't believe he bought that_!

"You're a good dude… dude," Jack smiled moronically and stepped through.

"You're an ass, Jack," Sheila laughed.

"You know you love it," Jack whispered back.

* * *

Jack disagreed with Li more and more the farther he walked through the mob. The people were, for the most part, just smelly, friendly, misinformed hippies. Nice people, actually. Some families pitched tents or fried burgers on small, urban campfires-something that hit Jack hard. He missed the smell and sounds of barbeque. Homesickness put a damper on his spirits.

But the people were… nice. Jack almost had a double cheeseburger thrown at him, until he accepted it from an old man in a tie-dye apron. It tasted millions of times better than military food, but didn't really help with the homesickness.

As he calmly strolled through the thick mess of humanity, toward the epicenter, Jack saw some darker details. Hidden in a building's shadow, his augmented eyes picked up a man with a large surface-to-air missile, guarded by three riflemen. Even his eyes couldn't see Li's moves as he dropped from the ceiling and took them apart in less than a second.

All according to plan. Jorge was in the third floor of the building up ahead-where Jack was heading. Li was in the building to the right, Sheila to the left. With his slow pace, they had plenty of time to move, though once Jorge asked him to stand still for a minute as he took down a large group silently.

They didn't need to worry about security scans, so they'd grabbed whatever they wanted. Jorge had one silenced pistol, and sixty pounds of body armor. He wasn't as stealthy as Li or as fast as Sheila, but he was big enough, had enough momentum, to simply tackle people and beat them into unconsciousness before they could raise an alarm. Sheila carried a silenced, stripped-down rifle similar to Jack's, though it couldn't be folded for stealth. It fired single-shots, whisper quiet. Li carried an ancient World War 2 American knuckle-duster-a blade on one side, a skull-cracking faceted rock on the other, and spiked brass knuckles in between. It was all he wanted for this mission, except for a backup silenced pistol. Everyone had oversized stun grenades.

Every minute or so, 'Tango down,' would crackle in Jack's headset.

Jack got quieter the further he walked in. If he did his job right, he would be the one to kill Major Orlav. From above, Gold Team would rain stun grenades-enough to confuse the hell out of everyone-long enough for Jack to slip into the rocket-proof glass pod Orlav spoke from and stick his knife in his neck.

Jack had never killed anyone. While it was great to be a Spartan, surrounded by heroes, the first time Jack had killed anything that wasn't a deer or elk had been the two Elites. They were aliens-it didn't completely count. And Jack had killed them to survive, one, and to protect his classmates, two. He didn't know if he had it in him to deliberately kill a man, up close, who would be virtually defenseless.

He walked slowly. But deliberately.

"Guys?" He whispered. And, of course, they understood.

"You'll be fine, Jack," Sheila said reassuringly.

"Make it quick and painless-he doesn't need to feel a thing," Jorge said.

"He's responsible for a lot of death," Li said coldly. "Be strong for his victims,"

"I don't know if I can do this," Jack murmured as he skirted around a campfire.

"You can, Jack. Sacrificing a bit of yourself to save countless others is what makes a Spartan a Spartan," Jorge said.

"You don't have to enjoy it," Sheila said. "But you have to do it. A lot more people will die if he raises an army, like he intends to,"

"For the greater good, Jack," Li said.

"For the greater good," Jack said as he stopped for a second. There he was. Major Orlav-in an armored transparent bubble, looking angry and bored as technicians set up the audio equipment necessary for him to speak to an audience five miles across.

Jack slumped against a car.

"We're ready when you are," Sheila whispered.

Jack rubbed his hands together.

And thought of his uncle George. A former Navy Seal. One of the very best special forces groups in the history of the special forces. George had trained for months, learning the ins and outs of his weapons, how to use them, how to fight. And not just fight-to move stealthily, to sneak around defenses to strike the heads of the snakes. So much of what he did was classified-but Jack found himself wondering if he'd ever been in a similar situation.

God, he'd been raised by a traumatized warrior. And not just raised.

Trained. Jack could shoot more illegal weapons than his class combined-and he was from Montana. He'd been trained to fight with his feet, hands, elbows, knees, head, and everything else since he was a toddler. He'd actually put Paco, an augmented Spartan, on his back. Before that, he'd killed two of the Covenant's warrior Elites-a feat most soldiers in the future UNSC wouldn't be able to claim.

And he was fourteen. He was a freshman in high school who'd gone to get a book.

This felt like a turning point in his life. So far being with the Spartans had been better than a dream, but this was the cost. To give of himself, for others, like Jorge had said. Or take the easier way out-walk away. Let others die. It would be so easy to not care.

That was what George had trained him for. For this. The hard decision-having the discipline and honor and _balls_ to do what needs to be done, to give some of himself for others.

Jack got up.

"Do it in five seconds," He heard himself say as he pressed the button, turning his earpieces into earplugs. His sunglasses automatically darkened to max polarization. He walked up to the stage, and as his foot touched the first step, he heard and saw technicians grab their heads and fall over. Sometimes there was blood coming from their ears-but Jack didn't hear a thing. The stun grenades made a strobe effect-he actually wouldn't have been able to see the way to Orlav if the bursts of lights hadn't penetrated the polarization of his sunglasses. Dozens of security personnel were on their knees-they hadn't been prepared. Maybe for regular stun grenades, but not the Spartan equivalent.

A foot up from the floor, a small round hole was in the transparent armor. It allowed wires from Orlav's microphone to get to the banks of audio equipment, which were hooked up to speakers all across the speech area. Jack ripped the wires out.

He saw Orlav's face, lined with fear, and it almost made him stop. But he took out his pistol, turned the safety off, and stuck the barrel in the hole.

There was no way out-and Orlav looked like a man on death row. Jack angled the barrel up, the laser sight resting on Orlav's chin. Jack couldn't hear, but saw his mouth form a word: _don't_.

_Too late for that_. Jack pulled the trigger, and the upper back section of the impenetrable shield was splattered with blood and brains.

Jack then ran to the closest skyscraper, slipping the pistol in his pocket.

It was done. He had made his choice-and now he didn't think of himself as a party crasher in Halo. He wasn't just friends with Spartans; at that moment, he felt like he was baptized by blood.

He was a Spartan.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Alright, some bad news. Well, if you don't like this story (but still read for some weird reason) then I guess it's good news: I'm gonna take a shot at NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month. It's basically a month of non-stop writing-the goal is 50,000 words by the end of November. It's a challenge, and it sounds fun, so I'm going to give it a shot. And, considering that I'm a full-time college student, and that I just got a job, this story's update rate is going to suffer. Considering that I'm already not updating as much as I want. If you really like this story, send me a message. Convince me to keep it coming, just as fast; inspire me, cheer me up. Just might work. NaNo starts November 1st.

"Hello, Spartans. My name is Lieutenant Commander Rodriguez. Per CENTCOM's orders, and despite Dr. Halsey's protests, you have been put in my command for the duration of this operation," Rodriguez was as thin a man as Jack had seen in this universe, but was almost as tall as a Spartan. He wasn't relaxed-he seemed almost hostile. It made Jack nervous. The antechamber was not relaxed.

"I've been fighting this branch of the Insurrection for six years. I firmly believe that we will win, and by 'we', I mean honest-to-god human beings. Civilians who volunteer to serve their government and protect their families and neighbors. Who choose their path, and can return to their lives after they've served," Rodriguez's nostrils flared.

"I've been briefed on the Spartan II project, and I am not impressed. You aren't volunteers. The UNSC has made you into freaks, wind-up toys. And it is that sentiment that is so common among the teenagers and young men I've been forced to kill. That the UNSC has become too powerful, arrogant, and self-serving enough to think they can kidnap six-year-old children,"

"Nevertheless, you are a resource, a resource I will use to the best of my ability. The ethics can be argued later," He glared at Dr. Halsey for a second, and Jack wanted to spit. Halsey looked like she wanted to, too.

"Our mission is to take down a base of traitors who've been selling UNSC weapons to the rebels. A typical attack on Roosevelt Base has been deemed too costly for regular soldiers-according to ONI, the Insurrection realizes the value of such a wellspring of weapons, and the area is guarded by forty to sixty of the Insurrection's commandos, as well as the bases contingent of six hundred personnel and ninety marines," Rodriguez grimaced as a holographic map of the area appeared.

"They have height, cover, numbers, and many other advantages. The base is built into the base of a large hill-which is surrounded on all sides by New Seattle, a metropolis of four million. Orbital bombardment is out of the question. It would take a full-scale ground invasion to take Roosevelt Base. I have been assured, however, that a few dozen Spartans could take the base with light casualties, if any,"

"The UNSC doesn't want to commit a half dozen ships and hundreds of marines to take one base, no matter how galling it is that an entire garrison has turned," Rodriguez looked angry.

"We'll have to do it their way. So, Spartans, here's how it is going to happen. If you're as stealthy as Halsey says, you'll be able to climb the hill, scale the walls, and be in position, all around the outer wall, undetected, ready to raise hell when I give the order," Rodriguez smiled. He thought he was giving a difficult order.

"The majority of you will kill as many of the rebels as you can, while Blue Team disables the base's anti-air guns. Then the three pelicans I've wrangled up will land, carrying a platoon of the UNSC's best humans: ODSTs. With luck, the base will be under control under an hour after we start,"

"The fighting will be initiated when I give the order, and not before. I'll be posing as a sergeant, delivering a load of supplies for the base. The trucks I'm bringing in will carry fifty marines. We fight the battle, you confuse them enough that they can't fight back," the Lieutenant Commander looked very pleased with himself.

He was using the Spartan's unique abilities to turn the tide of the battle-but not nearly as much as he could. He was making them run interference-he was going to chase the glory of the battle, and make sure the Spartans looked like support, instead of the major players.

He was an idiot. Trying to pad his record for a promotion. Jack almost shook with rage. This was the kind of thinking that would get a lot of marines killed. But he couldn't say it-he was a Spartan. A member of the single most disciplined group of warriors ever. He was torn between preserving his cover and cussing at Rodriguez.

In his periphery vision, Jack saw Sheila white-faced and wide-eyed. There was almost a tear of fury there. She was a glory hog, too-but she would _never_ sacrifice comrades.

"Rendezvous at pelican TI-346 in thirty minutes, with your gear. It'll take you to the staging area. We take back Roosevelt Base at 0400 hours," He nodded. "Dismissed,"

As the Spartans filed out of the antechamber, Jack saw Jorge shaking his head wearily, and Li violently cussing under his breath in Japanese.

* * *

Naturally, the Spartans didn't have the proper gear. The heaviest armor they had was ODST, which was fine for regular infantry. But with the Spartans' enhanced strength, they may have well been using their dress uniforms-they could move and run stealthily with armor twice the weight. It wasn't tough enough to take the hits a serious fight would bring.

The guns were fine. But they could have been bigger. The Spartans barely even felt recoil anymore, and would've loved more stopping power in combat. Obviously, ammo weight would not have been a problem.

Some spray-painted stealth coating over their gear, and they were ready far before the thirty-minute mark. Restless, nervous, and angry, Gold Team just fidgeted by the pelican twenty minutes before they were supposed to be there.

"How the hell can he get away with this? Just letting some kids take the fire while we hang out on the walls?" Li fumed.

"Well, we are only fourteen," Jack pointed out, for some reason.

"True, but misleading. We've trained and drilled for almost a decade. Well, most of us," Jorge said as he glanced at Jack. "We're as professional and well-trained as we can be,"

"It's all about the glory for that guy," Sheila muttered. "He just wants to make himself look good and us look like amateurs,"

"It's more than pride," Li said. "It's disregard for the lives of his men. He thinks it's worth the cost,"

"So, what can we do?" Jack shrugged. "He's in command,"

Jorge sighed. "We can't do anything but obey his orders as best we can,"

"A lot of people are gonna die if we just let this happen!" Jack said. "Are we just going to sit there?"

"Jack, you're new," Li said quietly. "But it's one of the first lessons we were taught: a military force cannot just disobey its leadership. It can be the best trained, armed, and most experienced group in the world, but that means nothing if the frontline soldiers don't listen to the leadership,"

"So we just let 'em die?" Jack shouted.

"I didn't say that. I recommend, Squad Leader, that we all take longer-range weapons than Rodriguez would like. We can provide cover once we've taken the walls,"

"Do it," Sheila said. "Everyone grab a sniper rifle and plenty of ammo. We'll do all we can,"

Jack had an idea.

"What if I cut the barrel of this sniper in half, and put in really big clips?"

"Why would you do that to a poor rifle?" Sheila raised both eyebrows-she wasn't just the leader of Gold, she was its best marksman and designated sniper.

"With a shorter barrel and bigger clips, maybe a more reasonable scope, this sniper becomes a battle rifle. It's a little less accurate, but it's just as powerful. Sounds like a decent Spartan weapon to me,"

"You know that's destruction of UNSC property, right?" Jorge chuckled, but sounded intrigued.

"No it's not, its customization. And with the kick of this bad boy-"

"We could take our wall that much faster!" Sheila crowed.

"And give those marines fire support that much faster," Li grinned.

"Should we tell the others about this?" Jack said. His team's faces fell.

"They aren't as liberal with the rules as we are," Sheila said. "They wouldn't do it, and they'd stop us,"

"Would they stop us from shooting the Lieutenant Commander?" Jack weakly joked.

* * *

From the landing zone about six miles out, the Spartans jogged to Roosevelt. They all wore full armor, each carried two or three weapons and up to fifty pounds of ammo apiece, but still hit an easy pace of twenty miles an hour. They went relatively slowly-it was better than going too fast and tiring themselves out, or having to wait an hour, freezing, until the green light to move.

Roosevelt was a medium sized base, deliberately built to completely cover the hill in the center of New Seattle. The 'hill' had three sides that were either sheer cliff faces or extremely steep forest. Pines transplanted from earth dotted the hill for a few dozen feet around the hill-just enough tree line to move undetected.

The Spartans jogged through the tree line, ten feet in. It was more than thick enough, with the stealth coatings, to hide them. In a few minutes, they were all in position, shooting the breeze with their teammates. Jack inspected his new signature weapon-he both longed to try it out and was a little nauseous about taking more lives. He's swapped components out before the mission-fifty caliber was just a little excessive. Forty-four was just fine. Jorge, Sheila, and Li also carried the smaller rifles. An advantage was the ammo was the same for all their weapons-they could share rounds between the team.

Jack paced to warm up-it was below freezing, and a light coat of frost was on his ODST armor. Sheila climbed a tree, jumped down, and climbed it again. They were waiting for 0400 hours. Humans were at their worst, from 2525 to the Middle Ages, at four AM. Most modern armies had a tradition of a stand-to: since four was the best time to attack, four was when the soldiers of an army got up and got ready, every day, just in case.

Jack hoped they'd gotten relaxed, being an entire formerly undetected base of rebels right under the UNSC's nose. Though they weren't rebels in the strictest sense of the word; more like traitors. They were selling weapons to the rebels, giving Insurrectionists the kind of firepower that would kill a lot of people.

It was disgusting. But luckily it wouldn't last much longer: finally, it was 0400.

"_Green_," An extreme narrow band transmission went over the radio. Sheila jumped down.

"Let's move, Spartans," She slid a round in the chamber and headed for the near-vertical base of the hill. Jorge and Li holstered their weapons, and Jack followed suit. It would be a difficult climb with both hands.

Jack found that the soil was almost ridiculously loose. The only way he could walk up it was to slam the fronts of his boots in make footholds. That took too long, so Jack used the trees. They were firmly in the ground, and it was relatively easy to jump from base to base. He moved more horizontally than vertically, but he was still making good time. And… there was the wall.

The walls were fifty feet high, made of meter-thick connected slabs of titanium-A. They were made to handle ground-based artillery, bombardment from outside, but would explode outward and kill dozens of civilians if the place was bombed. Those slabs were big enough to crush houses, and they wouldn't be stopped by a few trees. They had to take this base back the old-fashioned way.

There were eight of these slabs, making the base roughly octagonal. They were mirror smooth-the elements would take a long time to affect them. So climbing the bare wall was out of the question. But the connections. They were the weakest point-carbon-weave that was tougher than diamond linked them up. The weave was carbon black, strong but supple, perfect for climbing. They would also be the most heavily guarded. Well, they would be if the Spartans were in charge of the base defenses.

Jack took out a silenced pistol. They were still in the stealth phase of this operation-and his invention was too loud. He held it in his right hand while Gold Team climbed up.

"Freeze!" He whispered over the comm. When the others looked at him, he jerked his head to the left. He'd spotted a camera, slowly rotating to their position. The armor was nearly as black as the connections… and they had stealth coatings. But there were no guarantees. Sheila took out her silenced pistol and shot it. They kept climbing.

Meanwhile, four semi trucks escorted by three warthogs drove up to the base. It was a scheduled resupply trip-it was usually food, spare parts, consumables. Toilet paper, stuff like that. Instead, it was packed with heavily armed and armored UNSC marines, led by Lieutenant Commander Rodriguez.

Jack was at the top. He eased the end of the barrel over, eyes down sight. He scanned left to right-no one. With his gun still up and tracking, he climbed up and over. On either side of the connection there were two small watchtowers. They were both open on both sides. Jack crept along to one. There was a small ladder leading up to a hole-Jack moved as silently as he could, easing his pistol over the edge.

There was one guard. Asleep. Jack silently sighed. He wouldn't have to kill someone, for now at least. Completely silent, Jack snuck over to him. He was a young guy, with the nametag Murrows. Sleeping at his post was bad, but not bad enough for a death sentence. Jack tied him to his chair, careful not to wake him up, and took his sidearm. Murrows would wake up when the shooting started, but he was effectively out of the fight. Li climbed up.

A light _snap_ carried on the wind, from the other watchtower, just loud enough for Spartan ears to hear. Sheila had neutralized her guard, her way. Jack thought it over. Would it be better to just snap Murrows' neck? After this base was back in UNSC hands, every surviving rebel would probably be tortured for information for a long time. And then executed, either by the courts or ONI. Jack could be sparing this man a lot of pain.

"Did you nab yours?" Sheila asked quietly over the com.

"Yeah," Jack whispered.

"Well, why not?" Sheila muttered. Jack chuckled quietly. She saw straight through his crap.

"Why should I? He's no longer a threat,"

"He's going through the ringer anyway, once we've won. Same thing. Ending the dude now saves him a lot of ONI-induced pain. If he's asleep, like mine was, then it's like the perfect way to go. Peaceful, easy, just like sitting in a dream but not finishing it," Sheila seemed genuinely curious-she wanted to understand.

"I'm never going to be like the rest of you. I wasn't trained to make these kinds of decisions. I'll kill when your lives or mine is in danger, but I'm not strong enough to just kill a guy in his sleep. Doesn't matter how much sense it makes. I can't," Jack murmured.

"You're a good man, Jack," Jorge intoned. "Glad to have you watching our backs,"

"Glad to watch them, Spartan," Jack said gratefully.

"_Yellow_," The com said. Jack sighed, then stowed his pistol. He pulled out his sniper rifle. Green had been the signal to get in position, and Yellow had been the get-ready signal: the battle was about to begin.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: John's thirty years younger here, so I think it's ok for him to have a little youthful spark about him. I like the speech. And I loved the reviews and messages-two of you threatened me with death if I didn't keep going XD. I never thought I would enjoy death threats so much. Thanks, you guys! The show will go on, though maybe a little slower.

Rodriguez had planned this fight. He knew it's every detail-he brought every UNSC asset to heel. He was in charge, he moved the pieces, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Rodriguez was a practical man, but understood the nature of the human heart and mind.

The Spartans were hot off the assembly line-classified or not, they would soon be the talk of the fleet. Every ground-pounder would hear of their heroics. They wouldn't understand the parts covered in black ink, the parts the UNSC really didn't want anyone to know, but the masses wouldn't care. They needed heroes, and the back stories didn't really matter to them.

They mattered to Rodriguez-and he knew the Spartans were just a few steps above windup toys. From the age of six they were deliberately molded and shaped to become exactly what the UNSC wanted them to be. Half of them were dead or crippled from the dangerous, permanent procedures that made them so tough. They were perfect examples of what Rodriguez hated-people who would've led normal lives, if not for the cruelty of others; their freedoms and choices had been taken away from them.

But they would still get all the glory. All the adulation. They would be hailed by the enlisted soldiers as the best of the best, when they were just victims made into things. Meanwhile, volunteers, marines, ODSTs, would take a backseat to the Spartans. The real heroes would be essentially forgotten, replaced by Halsey's freaks.

Rodriguez didn't like that. So the Spartans had a backseat in this operation-useful, used, but not at the forefront of the battlefield. They wouldn't own this battle, not this opportunity to prove their courage. It would seem petty to some, but Rodriguez was an exacting man. He was as intelligent as he was cunning.

"Verification, please," A guard at base's gate stated. The Lieutenant Commander had insisted on driving the first warthog in.

"What?" Rodriguez asked.

"I need your I.D. and verification," The guard's hand rested on his pistol.

Rodriguez nodded significantly to the man in the passenger seat, who whispered the second code word into his throat mike. It seemed the battle would start early, but he wasn't concerned. The heroes would win the day-it didn't matter what their position was.

"Did you think you could get away with it?" He asked the guard, who took out the gun.

"I mean, really, a whole base? You're that idiotic?" Rodriguez tried to quickly grab his own pistol, but fumbled with the holster-the last thing he saw was a second guard sound the alert, while, in his periphery vision, the gun pointing at his head had its trigger pulled.

The man in the passenger seat barely had time to scream the third codeword before he was killed.

* * *

"_Red! Re_-" A gunshot cut the voice off.

"Well, that was fast. Where's the trucks?" Jack asked. They were supposed to be in the center of the base when the attack came. The Spartans could provide cover for the marines from every angle, if they were in position. But the entrance to the camp was more removed than the rest-only two Spartans had a clear line of sight. The entrance had almost no cover, as opposed to the center, which had dozens of large crates and containers.

"They're at the gate!" Sheila yelled.

"Bloody idiots!" Jorge hollered.

"Orders, ma'am?" Li asked, ice cold. The clatter of automatic fire came from the gate.

"Dammit! Jump down, land hard. Use Jack's guns! We need to back the marines up," Sheila shouted then leapt down into the darkness. It wasn't high at all, considering their augmentations. But it was still fifty feet. Jorge cussed in Hungarian, then jumped. Li jumped.

"Shit!" Jack yelled as he jumped. He hit the ground hard, but besides an instant ache in his feet and knees, he was fine. There was a rebel marine less than five feet from him, who spun, bringing his gun to bear. To Jack it seemed like he was moving in slow motion. Jack grabbed the rifle, tore it away, and cracked him over the head with the butt. The marine fell, but Jack didn't think he was dead. Just knocked out. Jack heard gunshots-not the constant sound of the battle, but a handful of shots, much closer.

Jack ran through the shadows of the base's buildings, raised his rifle and saw Jorge. He was surrounded by four dead rebels, and blood streamed from his arm. Jack grabbed a canister of biofoam from his belt.

"I'm fine!" Jorge growled. "Where's the others?"

"I am here," Li walked from a different building. There was blood on his hands, but Jack didn't think it was his.

"Sheila?" Jack called out.

"I'm good," Sheila jogged in from behind Jack. She didn't even look ruffled.

"Let's go help those guys," Jack said.

"If we rush in we'll be dead before we can help anyone. Jack, you're with me. Jorge, get their attention. Li, flank them," Sheila said.

The Spartans jogged to the battlefield. The long gate was a bloodbath. Most of the UNSC people were dead, and all of the survivors were wounded. All the lightly-armored trucks and two of the warthogs had exploded.

That wasn't good. Warthogs were basically two things-engine and armor. Small arms wouldn't penetrate that armor easily. There were bodies and scorch marks everywhere.

And the battle wasn't over.

Five marines were hiding behind skeletal remains of a truck, firing bursts. Jack watched in horror as a rocket hit the truck broadside-launching it sideways and crushing two of them. Withering fire picked off two more. If they weren't dead, they would be in a few seconds.

Sheila and Jack shot two distracted rebels and took their cover, a cargo container. Jorge hurled grenade after grenade at the crates and vehicles the rebels were using for cover. The explosions and flashes of light deafened and blinded the rebels, but if they'd been in complete silence and perfect light they couldn't have seen or heard Li before they were killed by broken necks, backs, and skulls, or knifed in the neck or kidneys. Li's knuckle-duster trench knife gleamed to Jack's Spartan eyes as he shot any rebel who had an exposed head or abdomen.

Jorge picked up an old Army-issue single-shot breach loader grenade launcher and rained explosives on the rebel's stonewalled marines. The speed and surprise of the Spartan offensive stunned the rebels, who could do little but scatter poorly-placed shots. Jorge ran out of grenades, threw the launcher hard enough to cave in a rebel's ribcage, then fired his rifle.

In his peripheral vision, Jack saw the flare of a rocket launch. Sheila was distracted-his speed and reflexes were just fast enough to grab her and hit the deck. The rocket sped a foot above them, before slamming into the base's thick wall. Jack shot the rebel before he could fire the second shot.

"Thanks," Sheila murmured.

"Don't mention it," Jack said. Then Li's biomonitor flared on Jack's Head's Up Display-he was hit.

"Shit! I'll get Li!" Jack ran from cover.

"Jack!" Sheila yelled, but he was already winding through the mess of bodies, containers, crates, and vehicles. He had his gun up, shooting every rebel he saw, using his Spartan reflexes to put them on the ground before they could blink in surprise.

Li was on the ground. He was covered with blood.

"Dammit!" Jack said.

"Not… mine," Li croaked. "Well… mostly,"

"I'm gonna get you out of here," Jack pulled a canister of biofoam. He had some trouble finding the wound-blood was everywhere-but Jack found it. It was a trio of bullet holes-one in Li's shoulder, stomach, and head. The ceramic augmentation on Li's bones turned the headshot into a concussion, but he'd be fine. The round hadn't been heavy enough to break through.

Jack filled the shoulder and stomach with biofoam, refusing to think about how this would go if Jorge hadn't taken a few minutes to give him basic medical skills. Jack thought he knew so much already, but his education seemed full of gaps at times like these.

"Can you walk?" Jack asked. Li groaned, and shivered.

"I can do more than that,"

Jack offered a hand, and helped him up.

"Come on. If any of the marines are still alive, they need help," Jack said. Li wiped blood out of his eyes-facial wounds bled a lot. Then he hefted his own rifle and nodded.

They ran back to Sheila, who looked both relieved and pissed. She smacked Jack in the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"Don't you _ever_ run off like that again! I nearly pissed myself!" Sheila hollered.

"Li needed help!" Jack retreated.

"I needed help, too! You left right when they tried to rush me! We don't just run off, for any reason, in a combat zone! After the charge, we both would've gone. Instead, you made sure there were two wounded Spartans in the hot zone, instead of one!"

"Two?" Jack blinked. Sheila pointed to the trickle of blood going down Jack's chest.

"You probably have a dozen pieces of shrapnel in you," Sheila said.

"I didn't… I didn't even…," Jack swayed, and the world seemed to be leeched of color.

"You're going into shock. Hold _still_, dammit!" Sheila whipped out a canister and stuck an end roughly in one of his wounds. Didn't hurt, though. Jack sucked in a lungful of air as his chest got cold, like snow and ice had filled his body cavity.

"Are you good?" Li asked.

"Er, what?"

"Are you good to go?" Sheila asked.

Jack closed his eyes for a second, and focused. The world stopped vibrating.

"I'm fine. Where's Jorge?"

"Here," Gold's heavy weapon specialist walked around the corner of the container. "No good. I patched up a half dozen, but the rest are dead. We'll be without backup,"

"Wait, it's over?" Jack asked.

"In a manner of speaking. We own the gate-but most of the marines are gone. We'll be shorthanded when we take the Admin building," Jorge said.

"Wait, what?" Jack was stunned-he had to be hearing it wrong.

"Blue Team took the AA guns offline, so the pelicans will be landing with reinforcements. But it might not be enough to finish this mission," Sheila said.

"Ah. No rest for the weary," Li cracked his neck, back and forth. Jack shook off the shock.

"When do we move in?" He asked.

"We'll RV by the gate, with the reinforcements and the rest of the Spartans," Sheila took off walking, and Gold followed.

* * *

Most of the Spartans had wounds of one kind or another. Four of them were considered too wounded to continue the operation, after they were all scanned. On Blue Team, Sam had taken splash damage from a rocket-He had severe burns, and his indestructible bones had forced both his shoulders to dislocate. On Red Team, Douglas had taken an extended burst of full-auto fire-he was in a coma.

Sheila was one of the best off-just an inch deep gash where some shrapnel had grazed her cheek. Jorge had the muscles in his upper left arm torn to pieces by UNSC shredder rounds-it had punched though the weaker armor on the inside of the arm. He was virtually one-handed until the mission was over and he could get medical care. Biofoam stopped the bleeding and staved off infection and shock, but was really just for short-term care.

And Jack had nine ounces of metal in his chest-one sliver three inches from his heart. He would need surgery as complex and taxing as Jorge's. But he'd been assured, he was fine, for a couple days.

When the marines arrived, they were shocked. Some had thrown up. Some blamed the Spartans for the loss of so many of their friends. All of them were under twenty. Most of them had no combat experience. They were all ready to take the Admin building. John got up on a crate-he had blood trickling from his jaw.

"I know. Spartans, it's been tough so far. Marines, you're between itching for revenge and scared by the fight to come, seeing what it took to get this far. As we get in there, kill the rebels, and take back Roosevelt once and for all, I want one thing to be running through your mind-those Insurrectionists and traitors have been killing or enabling the killing of more civilians than we can ponder. Most of you marines have lost friends or family to the Insurrection, or maybe to heavy-handed UNSC retaliation. If you didn't before today, you have now. Those men and women who were killed less than thirty minutes ago were your brothers and sisters. They were your friends. It's time to avenge them. And Spartans, every wound you have on you is an insult to your skill and training. It's time for payback,"

The UNSC forces cheered, and most of them saluted. John nodded to Kelly, who put down a portable holographic projector, which put up a structural, transparent projection of their target.

"The Admin building is the fallback position of every Haverson-class UNSC base. It's not built like the rest of the base. It has long lines of sight and raised cover farther back in the first floor, with nothing for cover in the first hundred square feet. It's a killing ground-funneled through the doors, they could pick us off easily. It's the only way in that won't take three to four hundred pounds of C-12. Its also the least defended vector by turrets mounted on higher stories-they want attackers to go that way. So we will, but now by their rules. This place has a lot of titanium-A plates, a few welders and torches. And thirty Spartans with enhanced strength," John grinned.

"We'll make a column, and it'll be a phalanx. Spartans scattered around the edges will hold up plates around the edges and front, and longer strips covering the top. Marines will be in the center of the column. The column will be thin enough to fit in the doors, and tough enough to handle the suppressing fire from the rebels. Once inside, marines, stick to the Spartans. They'll hang onto the shields, and you'll use them for cover. We'll push in easily. But that's the only easy part. From the first floor up, it's room-to-room close combat. Spartans will always be the first in a room-followed by the marines with shotguns. There are four floors. We'll take them down one at a time, room by room. It'll be fast, hard, and people will die. If we do our job right, it'll be the Innies! Got it?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Everyone cheered.

"Damn right. Let's get to work," John said.


	8. Chapter 8

The next twenty minutes was spent cutting up titanium plates into rectangular strips and square slabs. The stuff was all over the place-Jack wondered why. Maybe the rebels knew they were coming, wanted to reinforce the base? The rectangles would cover the top of the phalanx, and the squares would armor the front and sides. Ten marines did most of the torch work, while the Spartans used their enhanced strength to move the incredibly heavy metal. Once cut, the pieces were laid out on the ground-three long strips in the center, and dozens of eight-foot squares around the front and sides.

Jack thought it was fairly awesome-Spartans in a phalanx. He had been a huge history geek. But the phalanx wasn't perfect-there weren't enough Spartans to do it right, for one thing. Near the back of the formation, the stronger marines would hold up thinner squares. And the plates weren't perfect-it would be too awkward. Cutouts gave the Spartans places to grab, though they risked getting the tips of their fingers shot. Additional, small cutouts let the marines stick their weapons out and shoot.

"Form up," John said. Although Staff Sergeant Peters was the highest-ranked one there, John had assumed command, after his little speech.

The balance of the Spartans were near the front of the formation-they were hefting both the ends of the top strips and the forward squares-but they were scattered around the formation. Only Jack and Sam were at the back-they were the strongest Spartans, not to mention seriously wounded. They were both adamant that they should be near the front with the others, but John said no. They were needed in the back, he said, because the marines didn't have the raw strength to hold up the ends of the massive rectangles-in fact, he said, in the front it took two Spartans to handle one end, while Jack and Sam would take one apiece. The end of the center strip would be carried by the back ten marines.

The Spartans got into position, and lifted the heavy shields up. Jack grunted as he picked up the massive piece of metal-amazingly, it wasn't much more tiring than hefting a bale of hay back home. He easily lifted it over his head. Then the marines stepped in, behind them. The titanium-A battleplate shields snapped into place.

John paced the length, inspecting the phalanx for weaknesses. When he was satisfied, he took his place in the front of the formation with Kelly.

"Let's move," He yelled. As one, massive, heavily armored formation, the phalanx marched. It was slow, awkward going-about three miles an hour. But it was pretty good, considering that the Admin building was just around the corner.

As they rounded said corner, it felt like the world's worst hailstorm had hit the world's worst-built aluminum shack. The end vibrated in Jack's hands, and he almost dropped it. Instead, he clenched it as hard as he could, the vibrations shaking his teeth. He knew it wasn't hail-more likely heavy machine gun fire.

There was a hoarse cuss from the front. Jack wondered if one of his friends had just lost a finger.

The phalanx finally reached the armored door, and started in. The sounds of gunfire intensified, but the pace was smooth and steady. Jack was almost bored for a minute.

Then the back of the formation got to the door and walked in. Although it had started as a thin phalanx, it was spread all over the back wall, with the heavy strips dropped on the floor. Every Spartan held up at least one square shield, and each shield protected at least two marines, which fired through the slots. One a dozen raised platforms, rebels on turret hammered the formation-but if a shield was on the verge of being shaken out of a Spartan's grip, they would slam it into the tile flooring hard enough that it stood up on its own. The turrets weren't the only threat-armored Innies with shotguns charged, wave after wave, at the line.

Jack saw John wielding a shield in each hand, blocking enemy fire with one while caving an enemies rib in with the other. A lot of the bigger Spartans were doing that. Jack couldn't see one casualty on their side-but the rebel turrets and shock troopers were being picked off like flies.

Jack held his shield in one hand, protecting two marines, and fired with his pistol with the other.

And… it was over. The first floor was taken-miraculously, with no marine or Spartan casualties.

"Good work. But it's not over yet. Spartans, hang onto a shield if you want, but be ready with a close-quarters weapon. Marines, do not let your Spartan out of your sight. Protect him, back him up, but don't lose him," John ordered as he walked over to Jack and Sam.

"You've done your part on this operation. I'm shipping you back to the Pioneer-there's a pelican waiting outside by the gate," He said.

"What?" Sam said. Jack just shook his head.

"You're too wounded for this. Sam, those burns are slowing you down. And Jack, that shrapnel gets closer to vital organs every second you're not in surgery," John said.

"Yes, sir," Sam said slowly.

"But… what if my team…," Jack said.

"They'll be fine, Jack. This mission was FUBAR for a while, but I'm not expecting any more casualties. We've got it under control," John said reassuringly.

"I… dammit. Alright, sir," Jack slumped.

"Good. Take some shields so an Innie sniper or gunner on the higher floors doesn't get you," John turned back to the rest.

"This is crap," Jack said.

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "But John's right. Getting killed won't help anyone,"

"And some painkillers would be great," Jack said. Sam laughed.

"Gotta love that morphine," He said.

* * *

"Surgery's in a half hour," Jack was in pleasant, warm morphine fuzz. It felt like a wonderful warm pressure under his skin. Jorge was in the bed on his right, and Li was in the bed on the left. Both were just as high as he was. Sheila was standing at the foot of Jack's bed.

"That's good. We'll need to be back at full combat readiness soon," She said.

"Not necessarily," Li murmured as he stared at the ceiling.

"Yeah… Chi Ceti's like three weeks in Slipspace," Jorge blinked slowly. Sheila fidgeted.

"Am I the only one here not seriously out of commission?" She asked furiously.

"For now…," Jack grinned. "Yeah. Kinda,"

"This is so _unfair_!" Sheila paced. "It'll be at least a week until you guys are up and moving again! What am I going to do? How will I pass the time?"

"Well…," Jack smiled. "You can start by handing me a bottle of water. Thanks,"

Sheila tossed it at Jack, and the water bottle smacked him in the face before rolling into the side of the bed.

"Huh," Jack turned to Jorge, "Is it me, or is Sheila losing her touch?"

Jorge chuckled. Jack turned back to Sheila.

"Sweetheart, was that supposed to hurt?"

Sheila looked like she wanted to strangle him. Li and Jorge were giggling with the morphine.

"You guys _suck_!" Sheila spun on her heel and left the room. Jack stuck up a fist and Jorge pounded it with his good arm.

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the warmth. It was heated, but not too much-just enough to be comfortable. The next thing he noticed was a blanket as it was shifted up to his chest.

_Ah, that's better_… He silently thanked whoever had done that.

He cracked his eyes open, with some effort, and saw a beautiful dark-haired woman. He thought she was an angle… then his eyes came back into focus and the angel was Sheila. He must be high.

"Thanks," He croaked.

"Er, sure, yeah," She looked embarrassed.

"So, I'm not dead?" Jack smiled as he asked.

"Yeah. There were a couple complications, but you're ok. They couldn't cut through your sternum to get at the shrapnel by your heart, so they had to go under it. Needless to say, it was awkward. Took them about six hours, but they got it all out,"

"Jorge and Li?" Jack asked.

"They're good. Jorge's arm will take more time to heal, but they're at the gym, messing around,"

Jack frowned.

"I thought Pioneer didn't have a gym?"

"Oh, we were transferred to the Commonwealth. It's a frigate, you know, less armor, more stuff. We're on our way to the Chi Ceti system,"

Jack remembered Chi Ceti from the books-it's where the Spartans get MJOLNIR, where Sam dies. Jack stiffened. He wouldn't let that happen.

"What about my stuff?" Jack asked.

"It's right over there," Sheila pointed to the far side of the room, which had a duffel bag.

"Wow… is that it?" Jack asked sadly.

"What do you mean?" Sheila asked.

"I mean… really? That's all I have?"

"I… guess so," Sheila shrugged.

"Hey, could you do me a favor?" Jack asked.

"Sure, I guess," Sheila shrugged again.

"In the left pocket there's a wallet. Could you give me that?" Jack asked.

"Sure," She opened the duffel and pulled the wallet out.

"Wow, hey is this real leather?" Sheila asked.

"Yeah. Here, let me see it," Dr. Halsey had confiscated everything that could blow Jack's cover-it wouldn't be good if someone came upon it by accident. But he was allowed certain things.

Sheila handed it over. He opened it and pulled out a couple small pictures.

"Who are those people?" Sheila moved to get a better view.

"My family. That black and white one, see?" Jack pointed to an old photo of a man and a woman, one in a tux, one in a white dress.

"Those are my parents. They disappeared when I was a really young. And see this one? That's my uncle George. He raised me and this little guy-my brother Cody-until Cody got to be too much to handle," Jack pointed to a picture of a small kid, grinning, with a gap in his front teeth.

"My uncle's not quite right in the head-Cody was too much for him, so they put him in foster care. He disappeared a little after that-they said he ran away. He was almost six years old. I think I was nine," Jack didn't realize there was a tear running down his cheek until Sheila handed him a paper towel.

"Thanks. I just miss them. I haven't seen Cody since… I don't remember. This is all I've got of them now," The pictures technically could be identified as not from around here-everyone used holos, but what would someone think? That they were from a parallel universe? Someone would just think the person who took them was old-fashioned. People always chose the easier, simpler solution to a question.

"I'm sorry," Sheila said.

"I don't want to bug you with this stuff," Jack put them back in the wallet.

"No… it's ok," Sheila shrugged. Jack smiled. There was an awkward moment of silence as both people tried to think up something to say.

"Er, so, any new theories about MJOLNIR?" Jack asked.

"Not really, though the rumor going around is that it's some kind of armor. You know, heavy enough for Spartans," Sheila shrugged.

"I hope so. I mean, that ODST armor felt like it weighed five pounds," Jack said. "It wasn't nearly tough enough,"

"Yeah. If it had been specially made, probably none of us would have gotten wounded at Roosevelt," Sheila said. "Well, I better go,"

"See you later," Jack said. Sheila left, and Jack felt just a little bit better about his whole situation. He relaxed and tried to go back to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: This one goes out to my favorite pew-pewing reviewer. *salutes an unggoy picking it's nose*

"How are you, Jack?" Halsey asked as she entered Jack's room. He was still in bed, only because they'd tied him down. He needed rest, they had said. Everyone else was gone, in the gym.

"I'm completely, totally, one-hundred-percent, totally fine! Why am I still stuck in here?" Jack flexed against the titanium restraints.

"You said 'totally' twice," Halsey smiled.

"I know! Because one totally did not express how freakin' great I am! I'm so bored!" Jack flexed harder and the four-inch restraints made light popping sounds.

"Well, for one thing, half of your internal organs had to be temporarily rearranged to get at the shrapnel. It wasn't easy-and there could be unexpected complications. But you're still here, mostly, because I would like to have a talk with you away from your teammates," She pulled up a chair and sat down.

"You could have just asked. I'm not the 'captive audience' type," Jack relaxed.

"My apologies," She said. "So, how are you, really?"

"Did you not get the double 'totally'?" Jack said sardonically.

"No, I got it. I also saw some interesting security footage from last night," Doctor Halsey smiled apologetically. Last night he had showed the pictures in his wallet to Sheila.

"Dammit. Is there any place in the UNSC that's not recorded?" Jack asked.

"Well, there is the storage closets. You and Sheila could probably get some quality time there, away from prying eyes,"

Jack dropped his jaw and got very red.

"I meant like with those pictures!" Halsey laughed. Jack sagged a little into his bed.

"You like her, don't you?" Halsey grinned.

"You're going to blackmail me, aren't you?" Jack said weakly.

"Perhaps later. For now, I'd like to discuss your family-"

"Wait a second-I thought that in the augmentations you put in a pellet, or something, that suppresses… the Sheila stuff," Jack interrupted.

"Of course we didn't. Making you lightning fast and super-strong is one thing, but suppressing human sex drives? It would be much more complicated than a platinum pellet. The pellet doesn't do anything but regulate hormones for growth. Romantically speaking, it's a placebo-if you think that's what happened, then your mind does it. Coupled with a decade of military discipline, it should be enough to prevent emotional entanglements. Wouldn't want the UNSC's premiere soldiers to end up like so many other people," Halsey shrugged, then perked up.

"I know this is random, but by all accounts you were fine with the battle at Roosevelt. According to satellite observation and captured security footage, you scored thirty-four confirmed kills. How does that make you feel?"

Jack sobered up.

"Not great. I don't like killing people. I mean, the adrenaline's great stuff, does all your ethical thinking for you in a fight, but like that sleeping guard… I don't like killing people, but it's necessary. I understand that now. I try to focus on protecting my team, my friends, instead of making the bad guys dead. Making things dead is not something I like. But I have more important priorities than my own squeamishness,"

"That's a major breakthrough, Jack. You're right, it's not about you, or the bad guys, it's about the mission and your friends. You've really grown these past weeks,"

"Why are you telling me all this? I mean, I'm sure this isn't the most intellectually stimulating conversation you've ever had," Jack shrugged.

"Well, you're fairly unique, Jack. For obvious reasons, I can't vent to my subordinates. If I vent to my superiors at ONI, I seem weak, and my enemies can glean my weaknesses. You're not a subordinate or a superior, and you only recently joined this chain of command. And you seem like one of the good guys that can keep a secret,"

_Yeah, and you can give me to ONI if I tell any of your secrets_, Jack felt ashamed, thinking that.

"It's relieving to vent every once in a while," Halsey sighed. "It's stressful, being one of the smartest people in the UNSC,"

"I don't think I'll ever know that feeling," Jack grinned.

"Don't count yourself out. You're IQ tests are promising," Halsey smiled, and Jack laughed.

"I don't think I'll ever fit in the 'super genius' category," He said, and Halsey laughed.

"You'd be surprised! I got more 'F's than 'A's in school," Halsey said.

"No way," Jack didn't believe her.

"Really! I didn't like my teachers-they were so smarmy. Arrogant-it clashed with my far superior arrogance. I spent more time proving my teachers were idiots than anything else," Halsey laughed.

"I know that feeling," Jack chuckled. "I wasn't always successful, but damn, it was always fun,"

"Yes… high school seems so far away now. What was I trying to subtly manipulate you into talking about…? Oh, yes, your family," Halsey seemed apologetic.

"Ah, crap. I was just starting to enjoy myself," Jack slumped. "You know, in the books and games you seem so serious, so… non-fun,"

"Hmm. I guess things aren't very fun for me anymore," Halsey frowned.

"In this part of the books, you're very professional, and concerned with the ethics of the Spartan II program," Jack said.

"That's… accurate. I don't know if what I'm doing is right," Halsey slumped.

Jack frowned. He could reassure her-but would that change things? For the better, or not? He had no idea-so he made a decision.

"Doc-look at me," Jack ordered. "Have you been reading the book?"

"No. I'm afraid of what I might find,"

"Good. There aren't many good things in that book. But one of those things is the Spartans. They-_we_-are going to save billions of lives. Billions. Is that worth it?" Jack looked hard at her. She averted her eyes.

"Doc-what's your first name?" Jack had forgotten from the books, and she hadn't told him.

"Catherine," She said quietly.

"Catherine-it's tough now, but it's going to get much worse. The Spartans are going to save planets-and one of us is going to save everything," Jack said. "I'm serious. The best thing you could do is to make more Spartans,"

"Ok, enough about my foibles," Halsey smiled. "Quit distracting me! I came here to talk about your family,"

"Great. Because that's a fun topic,"

"You mentioned a little brother?" Halsey asked, and Jack sighed. Then he started to talk.

Cody. He'd been just a baby when their parents had disappeared. For five years, George raised them both. Then Cody had become a little hellion. He'd started beating kids up, smoking-in high school it would have been tolerable, maybe ok, but not for a six year old. George tried to crack down. But it just got worse. Therapy didn't work, military-style discipline didn't work. George was at the end of his rope. Despite Jack's nine year old protests, George gave him to social services. Cody had been in foster care for five weeks. Then he vanished. After a six week search, with no evidence-none of Cody's things were gone-the authorities decided that he had been kidnapped or murdered. The search slowed and stopped. Jack's brother was gone.

"So, yeah. I don't really remember him much," Jack shrugged. "Why did you ask?"

"One of the symptoms of being in the 'super genius' category is curiosity," Halsey smiled. "Well, I think I've spent enough of your time," She got up.

"Wait!" Jack looked beseechingly at his restraints. Halsey laughed.

"Alright, but really, take things slow. We don't want you back in this bed," She opened them.

"Hey, remember who you're talking to. I'm a Spartan-I'll probably spend more time in hospital beds than anywhere else," Jack joked. Then he saw Halsey's face.

"Shit, I'm sorry, doc-"

"No. It's ok. And call me Catherine," Halsey smiled and walked away.

Jack got up, stretched. It felt good to move-like after a long drive. He leaned back and was rewarded with several sharp cracks.

He changed clothes. Workout sweats and a t-shirt wasn't really comfortable, but it was the closest thing to civilian clothes Spartans got, and a hell of a lot better than the hospital stuff. He wondered why, after five hundred years, the assless hospital gown still reigned supreme. Did it confer any medical advantages? He doubted it.

* * *

"How are we doing?" Jack asked as he walked up to Gold Team in the gym. Jorge grunted longingly at the dead-lift, which Sheila was using with a grin. With his shredded arm bound up and healing, Jorge couldn't do much that wasn't free weights with his good arm.

"Cool. Where's Li?"

"Where else?" Sheila chuckled. Jack looked over and saw him sparring with two other Spartans. The other two were teaming up on him-but he was somehow winning.

"Awesome. Anything happen while I was out?" Jack asked.

"Well, Jorge is all kinds of lonely without his right hand," Sheila said, and Jack laughed as Jorge punched her in the gut in a friendly way.

Jack realized he was happy. He liked this, despite losing everything. Despite losing his friends, family, home… He was happy. Despite knowing the horrible fate of his new home, knowing how two of his new best friends would die. He was happy. This place was somewhere that he'd explored in his imagination since he was a kid. It didn't feel new-it felt like coming home.

"You guys, we should do something. Something fun; something that's not lifting heavy stuff for long periods of time," Jack grinned.

"Like what?" Sheila raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know, anything! Let's challenge the marines to a card game. Let's goad the ODSTs into arm wrestling one of us! Let's pull a prank on someone,"

Jorge laughed.

"Taken your meds today, Spartan?" He asked.

"I swear, if they try to stick another needle in me, I'm going to stick it in someone's eye," Jack chuckled. Sheila set the bar down.

"You're totally right. I'm sick of Jorge following me around while I work out, like a lost puppy with no bone. Let's go!"

"What do you guys want to do?" Jorge laughed.

"Well, first, let's grab Li," Jack said. The trio walked over to the ring. Li was dancing around Jerome and Vinh-not one of them touched him. He was playing with them.

"Quit playing with your food! Come on, we have stuff to do!" Sheila shouted. Li grinned.

He ducked under Jerome's fist and punched him sharp in the kidney. Jerome cussed, but he was only out of the fight for a split second. Using that window, Li got to Vinh, and, with a lightning fast combo of punches, kicks, and headbutts, knocked her clean out of the ring. Then he swung a hard kick at the side of Jerome's head-connected, and Jerome seemed to cartwheel away. Li jumped down and landed in front of Jack.

"I was having fun with those two," He said in mock anger. "This should be good,"

Sheila nodded evilly to Jack, who was completely caught off guard.

"Well, I figured we should do something, you know, get out of this rut," Jack shrugged.

"I like this rut. I haven't gotten this much free time for sparring… I think never. These augmentations keep amazing me,"

"Remind me to kick your ass later," Jack grinned. "But for now, let's do something we don't usually do!"

"Like what?" Li frowned.

"Let's wedgie some Navy geek and disappear so they think they got wedgied by a ghost. Or start a fight with some marines with some creative yo-momma jokes," Jack was on a _roll_.

"Or we could play poker with the ship's AI… what's her name?" Jorge asked.

"Evergreen," Said the hologram that appeared next to Jack, who jumped back.

"Dammit, you scared the crap out of me!" He said.

"My apologies," Evergreen's chosen avatar was a slender woman in a robe of leaves and pine needles.

"You did that on purpose!" Jack accused.

"Yeah, I did," She admitted unapologetically. "Now what's this about poker?"

"Were you listening in?" Jack asked.

"Well, duh. Of course I was. I always listen-this is my ship, after all. Captain Wallace may command, but the Commonwealth is the closest thing to a body I will ever have," Evergreen sounded just like one of the preppies at school-obnoxious, annoying, and superior. Jack liked her.

"So? Poker?" She said hopefully.

"If I know anything about AIs," Jorge said. "Then you're almost infinitely smarter than any human,"

"Yes, that's correct," Evergreen said eagerly.

"So you'd win every game," Jorge said.

"Also correct," Evergreen said.

"Then why should we play?" Sheila asked.

"Why would you suggest it if you knew you'd lose every time?" Evergreen asked. "Aha, caught you in a logical fallacy. Who's got the cards?" she rubbed her hands together.

"No one. We were just bouncing ideas off each other," Jorge said.

"Why would you do that? Knowing you didn't have cards and so couldn't play?" Evergreen looked a little upset.

"Well, we were just-" Jorge started.

"A_ha_! SPARTAN-052, you do have cards! According to archived security footage, you have a standard fifty-two card deck in your luggage under your bed!" Evergreen pointed a finger at Jorge.

"Alright. I do. But you still can't play!" Jorge said.

"Why the hell _not_?" Evergreen yelled.

"Because we don't want to lose every game!" Jack said. "And anyway, how could you even play? You don't have hands to hold the cards,"

"That is a grossly racist remark!" Evergreen said. "Just because I do not have a literal corporeal form does not mean I am not a person!"

"I didn't say you weren't a person," Jack said hastily. "Just that you can't play!"

"_Why not_?" Evergreen threw up her hands.

"Because you don't have hands!"

"You are _a terrible person_!" Evergreen screamed before her hologram winked out.

The four members of Gold Team stood still, in shock, for a split second. Then they simultaneously broke out laughing.

Jack was definitely home.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: The last section of this felt like typing practice, not writing. Ah, well. Enjoy-and I you don't review I will destroy you. Bwahaha

"Are we there yet?" Jack asked over his cards. Sheila sighed.

"Nope," Jorge sighed. "Crap. I fold,"

He set his cards down. Jack grinned.

"Well, that's good, 'cause all I had was a pair of aces," Jack set his cards down, and Jorge grimaced.

"You just have to completely control your every expression-everything that can give away your bluff," Jack said.

"Yeah, yeah," Jorge muttered. Sheila grinned wickedly as she laid down a three of a kind.

"See, she's learning," Jack muttered conspiratorially. "Are we there yet?"

With Dr. Halsey's 'loose ends' tied up, the Commonwealth had been on a two-week slipspace voyage to Damascus Materials Testing Facility, in the Chi Ceti system. Jack had been fairly stressed out in the beginning of the trip-the first encounter with the Covenant. Sam's death. But as boredom settled in, Jack relaxed. He could handle the situation when it came, but worrying pointlessly would accomplish nothing.

"We should be arriving any minute," Li said as he stared at the crap hand he'd folded a few minutes ago.

"But we aren't there?" Jack said.

"No,"

"Damn," He said.

Most of the Spartans were loitering here in the Commonwealth's bunkroom. Playing cards, reading, exercising-Sam was sparring with Kelly, Sam toning down his strength, and Kelly her speed, to make it more even. Jack dealt a new hand to everyone.

The viewscreen that John was sitting next to clicked on, showing Chi Ceti's sun. While Jack had read the books, it didn't click until the intercom spoke:

"Spartan-117, report to the bridge immediately," Dr. Halsey's voice said.

_Oh, crap_! Jack's pulse raced.

"_Now_ we're here," Jorge said with a smile.

John pressed a button on the intercom.

"Yes, ma'am," He turned to Sam, "Get everyone ready, in case we're needed. On the double,"

"Affirmative. You heard the Petty Officer. Dog those cards. Get into uniform, soldier!" Sam hollered in a good drill-sergeant voice. A month ago Jack would have been pretty annoyed with getting shouted at, but he understood now.

"Good timing. My hand sucked," Sheila said as Jorge swept them all into a container.

Jack averted his eyes-particularly from Sheila-as everyone stripped to their underwear and put on their ODST BDUs. They strapped on sidearms, grabbed grenades, and kept their rifles ready. Then-nothing. It was typical military-hurry up and wait. Jack's foot tapped against the floor. Li sat crosslegged. Jorge and Sheila paced.

The intercom said with John's voice:"Sam, muster the squad in Bay Alpha. I want that pelican loaded and ready for drop in fifteen minutes,"

"We'll have it done in ten," Sam said back. "Faster if those Longsword intercepter pilots get out of our way,"

Everyone was ready to go-they grabbed ammo crates, medical packs, fuel for the pelican, and everything else that could be useful.

Jack, in a moment of clarity, grabbed a container of vacuum seals. They were sticky, flexible sheets that, when properly applied, could hold against vacuum for up to an hour. No one else grabbed any, for some reason. Maybe they didn't think they would be worth it-they grabbed obviously useful things, like rations and BDU repair kits.

_By doing this, I'm probably going to save Sam's life_, Jack thought. Jack wondered if he had any right to change the storyline-then he grabbed another vacuum seal container.

_It's complete and utter crap that Sam is supposed to die here_, Jack thought_. I'm not going to let it happen._

In a long line, Spartans sprinted through the cramped corridors of the Commonwealth. Dodging beams, rafters, plasma conduits, and power lines, they ran faster than Olympic athletes could run with a clear path.

They finally got to Bay Alpha. It held a dozen Longswords and three pelicans. One was specially designated for the Spartans-it had lighter armor and bigger engines, as well as a light layer of stealth coating.

They were loading it up with supplies-not in the crew compartment, or the cockpit, but in flush, small sections lining the sides of the pelican. Jack had never seen them before in the games; they reminded him of the sections on the sides of school buses, where students sometimes put their heavier stuff, like their instruments if they were in band.

Jack was just shaking off the memory from home when the collision alarm sounded. Everyone dropped what they were doing and held on to something sturdy. Nothing happened. Then a chaotic series of small, resounding thumps.

_Pulse lasers-oh my God,_ Jack thought_, the battle is happening right now!_

A different series of thumps-ordered this time. Sequenced. The Commonwealth was firing Archer missiles. Jack stumbled and felt a sense of vertigo-the ship had cut engines and spun around, tracking the Covenant ship.

"Go, go, go!" Sam hollered as more pulse lasers pounded the Commonwealth. The Spartans packed the pelican double-time.

Jack's feet slipped and he fell to the deck as a sound like a million lightning strikes at once sounded in the ship-and the floor flew five feet to the side. The Commonwealth had fired a MAC round. They were less than fifty feet from the gun-Jack's head hurt from the noise.

The last of the supplies were loaded up-it was all the Spartans could do but hang on as another MAC round fired. Immediately after the mini-earthquake, Jack jumped over to Sheila.

"You ok?" He asked. She hung on the side of the pelican with a look of pure terror on her face. Jack joined her-grabbed her hand. She clenched so hard if felt like his bones were breaking.

"We'll be alright!" Jack yelled. Jack racked his brain. What happened after the second MAC hit?

_Oh my G_-

The ship jolted twenty feet to the left-pressing Jack and Sheila hard to the pelican, which was nearly torn free of its lock on the deck. Plasma impact. Air rushed out of a hallway-Jack's ears popped-the door automatically slammed shut and sealed. Fifty feet away, the part of the MAC that was visible was fine-but a hundred feet farther along the gun, there was nothing but molten metal.

The intercom crackled to life.

"Longsword Squadron Delta, this is the Captain. Get your ships in the black, boys, and engage the enemy ship. I need you to buy us some time," The Longsword pilots without broken limbs got up. One of them got to the intercom.

"Roger that, sir. We're ready to launch. On our way,"

The Spartans watched as eight of the dozen Longsword pilots stumbled back to their birds and took off. Jack knew none of them would make it back. He squeezed Sheila's hand.

If he remembered the story right, then the battle was over-for now.

* * *

Sheila looked almost as embarrassed as Jack-both red in the face, with Jorge and Li standing between them. Jack shook off the feelings that came over him in the heat of the moment. They were stupid, and nothing could ever happen between them. He felt very stupid.

He tried to distract himself by wondering how he'd missed this-he'd read the book, but didn't remember the Spartans going down an elevator for fifteen minutes. They were all crammed into the small elevator, going who knew how far into Chi Ceti 4.

Finally, the doors opened to show a large room. In the center, three techs and at least a dozen AIs were working. Halsey cleared her throat-the AIs vanished and the techs turned around.

Jack felt like he was in nerd heaven right then. Because, at that moment, he noticed the scores of mannequins-on each of them was a beautiful, pristine, absolutely nergasmicly awesome suit of MJOLNIR Mark IV armor. Green, luminescent armor plating covered a layer of matte black undersuit.

Gold visors and thick plating-thicker than in the Mark V, because these armored exo-suits didn't come equipped with shields.

"Project MJOLNIR," Halsey said. "The armor's shell is a multilayer alloy of remarkable strength. We recently added a refractive coating to disperse incoming energy weapon attacks-to counter our new enemies. Each battlesuit also has a gel-filled layer to regulate temperature; this layer can reactively change in density. Against the skin of the operator, there is a moisture-absorbing cloth suit, and the biomonitors that constantly adjust the suit's temperature and fit. There's also an onboard computer that interfaces with your standard-issue neural implant,"

_Made of ninety-nine percent fifty-carat industrial-strength awesome_! Jack thought gleefully to himself.

Halsey gestured, and the schematic collapsed so that it only displayed the outer layers. Jack saw a lot of complicated electronic things that he didn't recognize-but he knew the big thing in the backpack was a mini fusion reactor.

"Most importantly, the armor's inner structure is composed of a new reactive liquid metal crystal. It is amorphous, yet fractally scales and amplifies force. In simplified terms, the armor doubles the wearer's strength, and enhanced the reaction speed of a normal human by a factor of five,"

"There is one problem, however. This system is so reactive that our previous tests with unaugmented volunteers ended in… failure,"

She nodded to a technician.

The hologram vanished, and was replaced with a flat video. It showed a marine being suited up in the Mark IV. "Power it on," Some guy said. "Move your right arm, please,"

The arm moved blurringly fast-and shattered. The marine shuddered and screamed, convulsed-every movement brought the sound of cracking bones. His own pain-induced movements were tearing him apart.

"Normal humans don't have the reaction time or strength to drive this system. You do. Your enhanced musculature and the metal and ceramic layers that have been bonded to your skeleton should be enough to allow you to harness the armor's power. There has been… insufficient computer modeling, however. There will be some risk. You'll have to move very slowly and deliberately until you get a feel for the armor and how it works. It cannot be powered down, nor can the response be scaled back. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Everyone said.

"Questions?"

John raised a hand. "When do we get to try them, Doctor?"

"Right now. Volunteers?"

Jack's hand was the first hand up-almost before she'd asked for volunteers. Halsey smiled.

"Alright, Jack, since you seem so eager,"

Jack blinked. Of course he wanted to try it… but before everyone else? He cautiously stepped forward. The three techs carted over a large suit of MJOLNIR, and Jack's pulse spiked as he stepped out of his BDUs, and he saw Sheila avert her eyes. The techs began removing pieces of the armor-the green plates would go on last, so they went on a nearby table. One tech stuck a front section of the left ankle on Jack's left ankle while another put on the back section. They linked the two parts, and at that moment Jack's fear evaporated. Matte-black pieces were put on, linked to the whole, and in a few minutes, Jack had the full undersuit on. It was heavier than the entire ODST suit, but it was very flexible. It didn't limit his range of motion.

The plates were much heavier. Each one weighed a couple dozen pounds, and Jack was struggling to stand upright under the heavy armor until the last piece clicked in.

"Breathe normally, but otherwise be completely still," Halsey said. A tech turned the suit on.

The weight vanished. The underlayer warmed, cooled, then matched his body temperature. A tech put on the helmet.

_Oh my God_.

It was _almost exactly_ like Halo: Combat Evolved. Motion sensor, targeting reticule, health monitor-the only noticeable difference was the absence of a shield indicator. It was like he was playing Halo with the TV filling in his entire vision. It was incredible.

"Everyone move back," Halsey said.

They shuffled back, wide-eyed.

"Listen carefully, Jack," Dr. Halsey said. "I want you to think, and only think, about moving your arm up to chest level. Stay relaxed,"

Jack took a deep breath, and was glad to see the armor wasn't so tight that it constricted him. Then he focused-and his arm sprang up so fast that it seemed to appear in front of him out of nowhere.

"Holy sheepshit batman," Jack whispered.

The Spartans gasped, and Sam clapped his hands.

Jack just blinked.

Halsey started to slowly teach Jack how to go through the motions, gradually making the movements more and more complex.

Jack found himself grinning like an idiot as he ran through an obstacle course, while everyone else suited up. He punched concrete blocks, making gravel. He threw knives, jumped over a ten-foot wall. He hefted a weight that was nearly as heavy as a warthog. He dodged machine gun fire, or just let rounds bounce off.

Jack felt like an expert as he coached the rest of Gold Team on the suits. He didn't sound anything but enthusiastic to Sheila, despite the whole holding-hands thing.

"Spartans, so far, so good," Halsey said over the speakers. "If anyone is experiencing with the suit or its controls, please report in,"

"I think I'm in love," Sam said.

"You aren't the only one!" Jack easily did a backflip. It was amazing how great these suits were.

"This is how we'll kick the Covenant's ass," Sheila said. "This is it!"

"Do we get to keep them?" John said.

"You're the only ones who can use them, Petty Officer. Who else could we give them to? We-one moment, please," A tech handed her a headset.

"Report, Captain,"

"_We have contact with the Covenant ship, ma'am. Extreme range. Their slipspace engines must still be damaged. They are moving towards us via normal space_,"

"You're repair status?" She asked worriedly.

"_Long-range communications inoperable. Slipstream generators offline. MAC system destroyed. We have two fusion warheads and twenty Archer missile pods intact. Armor plating is at twenty percent," Static hissed. "If you need more time… I can try to draw them away_,"

"No, Captain," Halsey looked over the Spartans. "We're going to have to fight them… and this time we have to win,"


	11. Chapter 11

The pelican blasted from Damascus at top speed. As John and Halsey chatted in the cockpit, Jack, the Spartans, several tons of spare MJOLNIR, and the three technicians were crammed uncomfortably in the aft compartment. It was standing-room only.

"Who the hell figured that this would work?" Jack said as he blushed-in the cramped space, Sheila was right up against him.

"Chi Ceti Four's pretty small. Small gravity well," Jorge muttered.

"I know, but this has to be three or four times the max weight load for a pelican," Jack said.

"Think we can catch up to the Commonwealth with so much dead weight?" Li wondered.

"'Course we can," Sheila said. "It'll just take longer,"

"Hopefully not too long. I don't want to get caught by the Covenant," Jorge said.

"I do," Sheila said breathlessly. "I can't even breath in here,"

Jack was thankful his face was hidden in the MJOLNIR's visor. But he couldn't help but roll his shoulders restlessly.

"Hey, anyone remember what payload this thing has?" Sam called out. There was a second of confusion before someone spoke up.

"Two pods with… I think with sixteen High-Explosive Anvil-IIs apiece," Someone said. Sam relayed it into the com. Jack felt a terrible, horrible moment of déjà vu.

"I'm on it," Sam finished. "Teams Red and Gold. You're with me. We're taking the warheads out of the missiles,"

"Can we ask why, sir?" Douglas asked. He was completely recovered from Roosevelt, but didn't like zero-g. None of them did, with the exception of Li. He had trained in it so much that he was as much at home floating with no ceiling or floor as he was on the dirt.

"I'll let you know when I find out. Let's move, Spartans," Sam, Red, and Gold shuffled to the back of the pelican.

"Vacuum protocols?" Sam asked. Everyone did a quick check, and muttered affirmatives. Sam nodded and pressed the button-with a rush of air that almost pulled out a technician, the Spartans were given a view of space. Chi Ceti IV looked so small, but what really hit Jack was the stars. Out here, without an obscuring atmosphere, it wasn't a field of lights. It was a blanket-so bright Jack's helmet automatically polarized. It was beautiful. He didn't understand why, but the palm of his hand tingled.

"We have to take pictures later," Sheila whispered.

"We will," Jack said.

"Move, Spartans. Get those warheads. Red, you have the right wing. Gold, the left," Sam said, spurring the others into action.

The most dangerous thing was drifting away-If they weren't extremely careful, they could bump against the pelican, and float out of reach. They needed to hang on, no matter what. Jack held on with a death grip as he moved to the pelican's left wing with his team. Jack realized that he had one chance to save Sam-he scooted to the side compartments and carefully opened the one where he'd crammed the vacuum seals. He grabbed the box and stuck it on the magnetic holder-thingy on his thigh. It was big, and a little clumsy, but it stuck.

"Jack, come on," Li said over the com.

Jack crawled over. Anvil-II missiles were apparently designed for idiots-It didn't require anything except a lever twist and unlocking a clasp and the warhead came loose. In less than thirty seconds they were all out. They were big and awkward, but still stuck to the magnetic locks on their thighs and backs.

They slowly made their way back to the door and went inside, locking the door behind them. Once inside, they passed the shaped charges around. John walked in-everyone stood at attention.

"I've got the warheads," Sam said. "Everyone's got one. Timers and detonators are already rigged,"

"Spartans. Grab thruster packs and make ready to go EVA. Everyone else-" John nodded at the technicians. "-If we fail, they'll be coming after the pelican. Protect Dr. Halsey,"

Jack opened a secure channel to the rest of Gold Team and turned off his helmet speakers-wondered for the millionth time how great the MJOLNIR was. He didn't have to do anything except concentrate on what he wanted.

"Guys, we have thruster packs, right?" Jack hadn't seen any. Jorge chuckled quietly and looked up.

"Huh," Jack said. There were so many up there, stuck to the roof, that they looked like they were part of the roof. "I knew that," He said as he grabbed one.

"Covenant ship approaching," Halsey said over the com. "I'm pumping out your atmosphere to prevent explosive decompression when I drop the back hatch,"

"Little late for that, isn't it?" Jack whispered. Sheila chuckled.

"We've got one shot at this," John said, not hearing them. "Plot an intercept course and fire your thrusters at max burn. If the target changes course, you'll have to make a best guess correction on the fly. If you make it, we'll regroup outside the hole in their hull. If you miss-we'll pick you up after we're done," He exhaled.

"And if we don't succeed, then power down your systems and wait for UNSC reinforcements to retrieve you. Live to fight another day. Don't waste your lives,"

Jack got out his vacuum seal container.

"If anyone has a better plan, speak up now," John said.

"Sir, if we get in, and one of us gets wounded with a suit puncture and can't leave the enemy ship, what happens?" Jack asked.

John thought for a moment. "Did anyone bring-"

Jack grinned inside his helmet and held up the package.

"That's command thinking, Spartan," Sam clapped him on the shoulder.

"Thank you, sir," Jack said.

"Pass them out," John said. "I want everyone to have at least one vacuum seal,"

"Yes, sir," Jack had to hold back a maniacal laugh as he opened the box and passed the seals around.

"Anything else?" John asked. No one answered. "Alright. Everyone ready?"

"Sir," They all said. "We're ready sir!"

John walked to the back and opened the door. Jack though he heard him take a quick breath, then he jumped and lighted the thruster pack. Spartans followed suit-Jack swallowed his stomach just before he launched-then acceleration sucked his eyes in the back of his head. T-Packs were designed for nimble maneuvering in space, but also for gravity flight. They needed to fight heavy gravity-with nothing but inertia holding the Spartans in place, the high-energy burn knocked them back into their armor.

"_Doctor, we could use a few decoys if Captain Wallace can spare them," _John's voice said over the com.

_ "Understood_," Halsey replied.

The Covenant ship slightly corrected its course-and Jack carefully adjusted. He didn't know how fast he was going after ten seconds of solid, high-burn acceleration-but he didn't want to know. He knew one thing-at speeds like this, a one-degree error meant he could miss by miles.

The Spartans were spread out-Jack couldn't see any others in his peripheral vision, and he didn't dare turn his head to look. He was focused completely on that ship.

The Covenant ship fired it's pulse lasers, and the Archer missiles the Commonwealth used for decoys were destroyed.

_What if John hadn't thought of decoys_? Jack thought for a terrible second. _Would any of us have survived?_

No. They wouldn't have. Scores of missiles were destroyed by the Covenant point-defense systems. There were only thirty-odd Spartans. Jack pushed it out of his mind.

Jack saw the Covenant ship re-adjust-he lightly tapped his thrusters, spinning him around, so his feet were facing where his head had been. Then he lit the thrusters to 120%, the acceleration tearing at him-he almost blacked out. He didn't want to tear his arms off when he grabbed on. He got to the ship… reached out…

His hand slid on an energy shield.

"Goddammit!" He was so ready. He could fight, he could _kill_, he could destroy the alien bastards that wanted to destroy the entire human race. The only thing in his way was an invisible barrier.

"_You have got to be_ kidding me!" Sheila screamed over the com. He guessed she had the same problem. The ship continued and flew by.

"_Did anyone make it in_?" Jorge asked.

"Negative on me," Jack said.

"_Negative here, too_," Li said.

"_This is_ bullshit!" Sheila shrieked.

"How much air do we have?" Jack asked.

"_Two hours_," Jorge sighed.

"Alright, fine. I'm sure someone got in. When they blow it, we'll get picked up," Jack said as he floated.

"_How are you so calm about this! We missed_!" Sheila hollered.

"I didn't miss. I hit the shield, but couldn't get inside before it got away," Jack said.

"_Same here_," Li said.

"_I missed_," Jorge admitted.

"_I wonder who got in_?" Li said.

Jack opened a wider channel, which included all the Spartans.

"Anyone see who got in?" He asked.

"_Blue Team_," Someone said.

"_Great. They'll get all the credit_," Sheila fumed.

"Sheila, you have to calm down. You'll use up your air-I don't want to have to give you mine," Jack said calmly.

"_You'd like that, huh? Save my ass, be a hero? I ain't a damsel in distress_!" Sheila said.

"I'd disagree about the distress part," Jack said, and the guys chuckled.

"_If I knew where you were, I'd kick your ass_!"

Jack sent her a nav beacon.

"Come on over, honey. Just you, me, and the cosmos," Jack said. This was something to pass the time and keep moral up-teasing and goading her with half-fake flirty comments. The only real danger was that she might jet over and really try to kick his ass. Or worse.

* * *

Jack felt like throwing a party. Any of the Spartans were capable of raiding the officers' lounge for booze. They could borrow music from the marines. The Commonwealth was stuck in the Chi Ceti system until the slipspace drive was fixed. And that could take days.

After getting picked up by the Commonwealth (Luckily, Sheila's T-Pack had run out of fuel before she could kill him), the Spartans, along with everyone else, had hailed the returning heroes-Jack's seals had saved Sam's life, and Jack was now good friends with the grateful Spartan.

No one questioned why Jack had gotten the vacuum seals in the first place-they were just damned happy that he had. It was a good thing no one asked, because he had no convincing reason.

"Come on, why not?" Jack asked Sheila, who'd cooled down after getting back on the simulated gravity of the Commonwealth.

"Because we don't want to want to draw the wrong attention to ourselves-we're Spartans, not marines Privates that celebrate a victory by getting drunk and playing grabass. Besides, we didn't even win. Blue Team did,"

"So what?" Jack grinned. "It's still a victory for our side-let's get drunk. Play a little g-"

Sheila punched him in the gut. "Don't even _think_ it," She hissed.

Jack chuckled hoarsely.

"Yes… ma'am,"

"And, if I remember right, I owe you an asskicking," Sheila said. Jack's eyes widened.

She swung her knee up at his gut-he barely backed away in time. He grabbed her thigh with both hands and laughed. Sheila cussed-she was off balance. She couldn't do anything but flail around as Jack used his strength to lift her ten feet in the air and throw her into the far wall. He was still trying to catch his breath.

"You sucker-punched me," He breathed.

"Yeah. I did," Sheila wasn't a close-quarters fighter. Except for the hand-to-hand training given to every Spartan, she had no really advanced training. Her specialty was at range, down a scope. Jack didn't have the full package of Spartan training, but he had the next best thing-a lifetime of training at the hands of a Navy SEAL. His strength turned the odds in his favor. The problem was, Sheila knew that. And she wasn't stupid.

Jack blinked-it was a mistake. Sheila's augmented reflexes saw a window of opportunity. In the split second it took to reopen his eyes, Jack was hit in the face by a thrown assault rifle.

"Ow-" Sheila followed up with a kick, looping her foot around Jack's neck and forcing him to the ground, on his back-not a good place to be.

She drove a knee into his gut, stunning him for another second, in which time she hit him in the chin with the palm of her hand. Now Jack was seeing stars.

He reached out and found something, sturdy, slender. He reached out and grabbed it, on either side, trying to pull himself up. Sheila didn't expect this-she collapsed under his weight, on top of him.

Jack blinked. Then he blinked again. Then his eyes came into focus. He saw two round, brown eyes. They were surprised-so was he. In the haze of his pain, half unconscious, he didn't think correctly. There was no self-consciousness. No restraint. He looked back, awestruck. And Sheila, just as stunned, looked back.

"Beautiful," Jack whispered. Sheila blinked, snapped back to reality, and jumped off.

"Wow, wow, _wow_," She said loudly with both hands up. Jack sat up, rubbing his chin.

"What… just happened?" He asked.

"I don't know, but keep your distance and I won't kill you,"

She was panicked. This wasn't something she knew, or had trained for.

"Hey. Sit down," Jack made his voice reassuring. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe,"

"What was that?" Her voice was scared.

"I have no idea. Well, I have one idea. But you might not like it," Jack said slowly.

"Well, what is it?" Sheila had backed up into the wall.

"Um… You know, what? Nevermind. It was a stupid idea. Really, really, incredibly stupid," Jack shook his head and stared at the floor.

"Well, you have to tell me know," She said.

"No. I don't. You won by cheating that time-I'm ready for it now. You can't win," Jack got in a combat position, spread stance, on the balls of his feet.

"No… no, I don't want to fight. Just… go away," Sheila slid to the floor, with her back to the wall.

"What?" Jack asked. He wasn't stupid enough to blink.

"I'm not… I have to think. So get the hell out!" She pointed at the door, and Jack found himself obeying. What the hell was happening to him?


	12. Chapter 12

"Come on, Sheila, you can't avoid or ignore me forever," Jack said quietly as Gold headed to the mess hall for lunch.

"It's been two days! Really. I'm getting kind of impatient…," Jack sighed as she picked up her pace and broke away from the group. Jack started to follow her, but Jorge held up an arm and blocked him.

"What's going on?" He asked sternly.

"Well, er, it's kind of a long story…," Jack looked down awkwardly.

"I'm Hungarian. I like long stories," Jorge said.

"Come on, Jack. We're part of this team too," Li said. Jack exhaled.

"Something… happened,"

"We figured that," Jorge raised an eyebrow.

"No, I mean, something _happened_," Jack said miserably.

"That just raises further questions," Li said.

"We were fighting, sort of… she knocked me down," Jack shrugged.

"And?" Jorge growled.

"It's kind of hard to explain," Jack said weakly.

"Try us," Li said. Jack exhaled explosively.

"Well… she kind of conked me in the chin… I was delirious, you know? Out of it," Jack said.

"Did you kiss her?" Jorge asked.

"No! I mean, I might've, I don't know, but I kind of just… looked in her eyes," Jack shrugged again.

"That doesn't make any sense," Li said.

"I know! It doesn't! I'm so goddamned confused!" Jack paced back and forth. "It was, it was… nice. Like I was looking _into_ her, not at her… Does that make sense?"

"No," Jorge said.

"Not even a little," Li said.

"Well, I don't know how to explain it any further. All I know is that she was looking back-and then she snapped out of it and jumped off of me," Jack shrugged. He was good at shrugging.

"Wait a second… she was on top of you?" Jorge frowned.

"Not like that. Happened in the fight… I don't know. One second, she was pinning me, the next, we were having this moment," Jack smiled bitterly. "It was great. It was an incredible couple seconds. She said she needed to think after-she's been avoiding me ever since,"

"Why were you fighting?" Li asked.

"I was teasing her about something… I don't remember what. What do you guys think I should do?" Jack looked a little scared.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Jorge asked. "Give her some space, and time. Let her think things through,"

"Big man doesn't know what he's talking about," Li smiled. "Be aggressive. Women don't like nice guys-they like testosterone-driven he-men. And bad boys. They just do, so be assertive,"

"You guys aren't concerned that… we're breaking regulations or protocol or something?"

Jorge grinned. "Sheila's the leader, but technically we're all the same rank: Petty Officer Second Class. Fraternization is only prohibited between differing ranks. It's discouraged, of course, but not forbidden,"

"You've researched this," Jack narrowed his eyes. Jorge coughed awkwardly.

"A little," He admitted.

"Why?" Jack asked.

"Nothing,"

"Oh, come on, I just spilled my guts. It's your turn," Jack grinned.

"Well… I looked into it to see if it was possible for me and Alice-130,"

"Alice? From Red Team?" Jack cackled evilly.

"Yeah… why is that funny? At least I'm not mooning after my boss!" Jorge laughed.

"Touché," Jack said, and they laughed.

* * *

"I'm done thinking," Sheila said with a steely look in her eyes. Jack, Jorge, and Li had eventually made it to the mess hall-Sheila uttered this simple sentence while Jack had a mouthful of sawdust-flavored rations. Jack half choked for a second, swallowed, and took a deep breath.

"That's… that's great," Jack said.

"Let's talk in private," Sheila said carefully.

"Ok," Jack pushed his tray over to Li. "Take that back when you're done, could you?"

He got up and walked with Sheila. She led him to the hallway, then turned to look him in the eye.

"Jack-"

"Wow, wait one second," Jack walked ten more feet down the hall and found a supply closet. He opened it.

"Ladies first?" He smiled.

"Call me a lady again and I'll cut your throat," She muttered. But she went in. Jack took a long look around, and raised both middle fingers. He brought them around in a wide arc, making sure they were seen by every camera in the hall. Then he went inside.

"Why did we get in the closet?" Sheila asked.

"Someone told me supply closets are the only places on UNSC ships without recording devices," Jack grinned.

"Ok… I guess that's good," Sheila said.

"So you said you were done thinking?" Jack asked.

"Yeah… I am," She said. Jack frowned. This didn't sound good.

"So…?"

"I'm giving you a trial run. We'll move slowly, deliberately. I looked at the regs. It's fine as long as we're-"

"-the same rank, yeah, Jorge told me," Jack grinned.

"This isn't something I'm experienced in, Jack," Sheila looked a little scared again.

"Me either. I'm fine with taking our time," Jack smiled.

"Good. One thing, though: I know all about sex and stuff, Jack. And the first thing I want known is that if we're going to do anything, it's not that. Nu-uh. Negative. Not for at least five years,"

Jack's smile faded maybe one degree. It was a slight disappointment, but he was still getting a lot more than he'd hoped for.

"That's completely fine. I won't push you,"

"Good. Then I won't kill you," Sheila said seriously. There was an awkward moment. Jack chuckled.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing, I'm just in a good mood. You just made me a very happy guy," Jack grinned.

"So… er… what do we do now?" Sheila asked. Jack smiled gently.

"Well, I think we start by holding hands,"

"Er, ok," Sheila held out her right hand, and Jack took it. But it just looked like they were about to shake hands. Jack scooted a little closer, and it looked more natural. Jack shifted so they were sitting together, instead of on opposite sides of the closet. Better.

"This is… nice," Sheila seemed astonished to be saying it.

"I know," Jack was too. This was more than Jack's old high school friends had let it seem. They'd been all about getting in their girl's pants. This was… warm. Jack enjoyed it.

"Now what?" Sheila asked quietly.

Jack slowly moved his arm-so she could see it-and put it around her shoulders. He held her.

"Holy shit," Sheila whispered.

"Wow, what? Did I do something wrong?" Jack removed his arm and moved away.

"No… get back here. I was comfortable," Sheila said.

"Alright," Jack said carefully. He moved back to her, put his arm back around her. She took it a step further-put her arm around him. They were intertwined.

"Holy… shit," Jack never knew it would be like this. It was great.

"Crap! Sorry!" Sheila jerked her arm back and backed away.

"What? No, get back here," Jack laughed. Sheila smiled lightly and slowly they moved back into position.

"This is awesome," Jack murmured.

"Yeah," Sheila's voice was unbelieving.

They jumped a foot in the air when the door opened, letting in a blinding flood of light.

"What the hell?"

The custodian was a little stunned. He was just looking for a mop, but seemed to have found two teenage super-soldiers making out.

"What the fuck do you want?" Sheila asked sharply.

"A… a mop, ma'am," He was stunned. Sheila fished around behind some boxes and found one, threw it at him.

"We are not to be disturbed! You got that, crewman?" Sheila shouted.

"Y-yes ma'am," The poor guy was terrified.

Sheila slammed the door.

Jack laughed hysterically. She was so _great_!

"Where were we?" Sheila asked.

"I think we were about to the first kiss stage," Jack smiled.

"You sure?" Sheila didn't look sure.

"Yeah. I think we should," Jack said.

"Well, right now? I mean, I'm sure we have stuff to do soon… and I'd like to keep on doing the arm thing…," Sheila blushed, and Jack laughed.

"Sure. I don't want to rush you," Jack moved over and took her in his arms. Then he lifted her into his lap.

"This is pretty sweet," She whispered. Jack clasped his hands over her taught stomach. He leaned back and she laid on him-her hair on his face.

"I know," He said. He kissed her neck. She sprang up.

"Wow! What the crap was that?"

"What?" Jack was confused.

"You… you surprised me," Sheila said.

"Ok… I'm sorry," Jack shrugged.

"Nah, it's my fault. My bad," Sheila said.

Jack smiled.

"And I think I'm good for the first-kiss thing," Sheila said.

"Really? Cool. Come on over," Jack said. Sheila walked over-sat on his lap. He held her close, and she turned on him. Straddled him. Jack blinked as blood rushed from his head.

"So what do I do?" Sheila asked him like he knew.

"Well, just lean in…,"

She did.

"I don't know, pucker your lips?" Jack shrugged, and Sheila did it. Jack leaned in-they were an inch away from each other-Jack saw her and felt like his heart would explode-he moved in-

"Spartans, report to the bunk room," Dr. Halsey's voice crackled over the intercom. Sheila pulled away. Jack sighed.

"Yeah. Of course. I can't be that lucky in the space the fifteen minutes. The universe would explode," Sheila laughed and punched him in the shoulder.

"Come on," She said. "We'll have to do this another time," She smiled, and Jack could only stare like an idiot for a second. He shook his head and took his thoughts out of the gutter.

"Yeah, alright,"

* * *

"Hello, Spartans. I called this meeting to go over the more technical details of the MJOLVIR Powered Assault Armor. At Damascus, you received the bare basics, due to the time constraints. In this discussion, I will go over the more complex mechanisms in detail," Dr. Halsey looked around the room-blinked rapidly as he saw Sheila and Jack holding hands. Then she grinned.

"So, yes. The liquid metal crystal that enhance your strength and speed in the suit was tested and developed at…,"

"Think we should be this public?" Jack whispered, already tuning out the technical discussion.

"I don't see why not. They can't stop us-not with the regs. They could order us, but I doubt someone's gonna want us on their bad side," Sheila giggled.

"You're an evil genius, you know that?" Jack squeezed her hand.

"I've known that forever, why'd it take you so long to figure it out?" She pecked him on the cheek. And he grinned like he was mentally handicapped.

"You guys are so cute together," Li snickered quietly from Jack's side.

"Can you hit him?" Sheila asked innocently. Without looking away from her eyes, he tapped Li's leg-there was little motion or sound, but Jack put enough force in to deeply bruise the muscle and give the smartass a numb leg.

"Dammit!" Li hissed.

"Thank you," Sheila smiled.

"Don't mention it," Jack grinned.

"Why do I feel like I'm in high school, despite the fact that I haven't been to school since I was six?" Jorge whispered from Sheila's side.

"It's one of life's great mysteries, Jorge. Another one is, why are you comparing this to high school when you have no idea what high school's like?" Jack grinned.

"Hmm. I don't know. But I'm still right, huh?"

"Pretty much,"

The lecture lasted another hour. After it was over, the majority of the Spartans knew the ins and outs of MJOLNIR-far more detail than they wanted to know. Gold Team didn't. They wandered back to the barracks, Sheila and Jack apparently surgically joined at the hand.

"Come on, give it a rest, you two!" Jorge jumped on one of the top bunks.

"Why should we? Does this-" Jack raised their hands. "-bug you?"

"Well, a little. We just got readjusted, and then you guys decide to re-shake the snow globe. It's unsettling," The big guy shrugged.

"Well, this ain't going away," Sheila said, and Jack smiled. He noticed he was smiling a lot lately.

"Captain on deck!" Li shouted. Everyone jumped up and saluted. Jack's hand felt slightly cold.

One of Captain Wallace's arms were gone, so he was pretty much unmistakeable. Jack frowned. Why the hell would the Captain come down here? What was the point? And why did he have that look in his eye?

"Everyone but Spartans 132 and 035, leave. Now," Everyone filed out.

Wallace looked pained, like he was doing an extremely unpleasant but necessary task.

"Relationships are not allowed on my ship," He said.

"Sir, regulations don't forbid it. We are equal rank," Jack said.

"I know. I also know the regs are wrong. What happens if your emotions get in the way of missions? I've seen too many good people die that way, pointlessly. Not only am I barring you from seeing each other while on the Commonwealth, but I'm going to talk to Dr. Halsey about transferring Spartan-035 to Red Team. I'll give you five minutes to say goodbye,"

Jack's world was shattered. Wallace turned to leave.


	13. Chapter 13

"He can't do this!" Sheila hissed. Jack rushed to her side.

"It's his boat, sweetheart. And we're assigned to the Commonwealth for two years, unless something changes," Jack held her tightly-afraid to let her go.

"It's bullshit! I mean, this _just_ happened and already…," Tears welled up in her eyes, and Jack was touched by the emotion in her voice. He kissed her once on the lips.

"Dr. Halsey won't let him transfer me to Red. We're in his chain of command, but she's the head of the whole damn project. We can fight this," Jack said sternly.

"What if she agrees with him? I mean, he had a point," Sheila sounded like she hating saying it. Jack hated hearing it.

"We're her people. If we let her know how much this matters to us, she'll side with us," Jack tried to believe it.

"If we end up… you know… I… I lo… I really like you," Sheila said.

"You, too, honey," Jack smiled. "Let's talk to Halsey,"

"According to the captain, we still have two or three minutes," Sheila said. Jack smiled, and she leaned in.

It might make it more painful in the long run, but at that moment, as they kissed, everything was alright. A little moment of perfection. Jack tried to hang on to it for as long as he could.

* * *

Jack knew that, on the logical side of the argument, Captain Wallace had the advantage. Dr. Halsey was a logical person-but not entirely cruel, as the books might have suggested. Jack had seen a little spark of kindness, maybe even a little empathy. He knew that she would consider the happiness of her Spartans a major factor-she felt so guilty already, it could save the new couple.

It was over, but as Wallace stepped in, they were still holding hands. Jack hated letting go, but it was necessary. They saluted. Jack's palm was cold.

"Sir. May I make one request?" Jack knew that everything hinged on this. If the Captain said no, then it was already over. They needed their day in court, but it was up to the kindness of the prosecutor if they got it.

"Depends," Wallace said.

"Sir, on Jericho and Roosevelt, we served exceptionally well," Jack didn't put any ego in it. "It's only been a few weeks. Many more victories for the UNSC will happen because of the Spartan-II program. All I request, out of respect for our faithful past and future service, is that the three of us see Dr. Halsey together, where we can make our case,"

Wallace sighed and pinched his nose.

"What you're doing is wrong, Spartans," He said forcefully.

"Only to you, sir," Sheila said, a little fear in her eyes.

"I'll allow it. I'm not as coldhearted as I look. But don't speak out of turn,"

"Sir! Thank you, sir!" Jack felt just a little glimmer of hope.

"Let's go right now," Wallace said.

* * *

Dr. Halsey looked a little thin. And pale. When the three entered her quarters, she was staring at a hologram of the Covenant ship Blue Team had destroyed. Was she scared? Jack couldn't tell. He thought that she was concentrating intensely.

"Hello, Captain, Sheila, Jack. Do you want to tell me why you're here, or should I tell you?"

Wallace frowned.

"Very well. Sheila and Jack have begun a romantic relationship. Our dear Captain Wallace's personal history compels him to end it, despite the fact that the final decision is up to me,"

_What did she mean by his history_? Jack wondered.

"My past has nothing to do with this. And this is my ship-it is my decision,"

"Then why come to me?" Halsey asked.

"Because I want this done. Over with. The authority to transfer Spartan-035 to another team rests with you, not me,"

"Why go that far?" Halsey leaned back in her chair.

"Relationships between coworkers is dangerous in this line of work. If one of them is killed, then I want the other still operational,"

Jack shot a hateful look at the back of Wallace's head. Sheila clenched her fists. Gold Team was slated to be on the Commonwealth for a further two years-Red Team, the team Wallace wanted Jack transferred to, was not. Command wanted the Spartans to be used across the battlefront-thirty was overkill for most missions. The Spartan teams would be separated by dozens of light years.

"Relationships with coworkers rarely end the way yours did, Captain," Halsey said gently.

Jack blinked. _What_?

"That is irrelevant!" Wallace blanched.

"And my Spartans do not split up or go rogue-they understand that going into enemy territory without backup is dangerous. Unlike the late Lieutenant Commander Julia Barger,"

"You're going too far, doctor!" Wallace yelled.

"I understand the pain you've gone through on your lover's behalf. But is inflicting it on others the right thing to do?" Halsey was still calm and gentle.

"I'm trying to help them! If you can't see that then I have no problem with taking this to Central Command!" Wallace yelled. Jack wondered if he was really that stupid.

"Misery loves company, Captain, and the Commonwealth is your ship. But _my_ Spartans are off-limits. Unless you want me access my lengthy contact list in Section Three and demand your early 'retirement', then I recommend," Dr. Catherine Halsey stood up, but her voice was icy and clinical. "That you _leave my fucking Spartans alone_,"

Wallace was speechless. He gulped, started to form a word, failed, nodded, and left.

Sheila and Jack were stunned for a full ten seconds.

"I think that should do it," Halsey smiled and sat back down.

"Ma'am?" Sheila asked.

"Yes?"

"It is an honor to be afraid of you," Sheila grinned, and Halsey laughed.

"Thank you so goddamn much!" Jack laughed as put his arm around Sheila.

"What can I say, I'm a romantic," Halsey seemed to be very amused with herself.

"How are we going to repay you?" Sheila asked.

"Huh. You know, I hadn't thought about it. You shouldn't either," Halsey smiled. "On second thought, take a seat. I would appreciate some input,"

They pushed the two chairs together and sat they could keep holding hands.

"You two are too much," Halsey laughed.

"What do you want to talk about?" Sheila asked.

"Well, before you interrupted me, I was studying the Covenant's ship design. It is quite interesting-despite all the damage dealt to it by the Commonwealth, just a few warheads from a pelican dropship were enough to destroy it from the inside,"

Jack nodded. When he read the Fall of Reach, he'd thought it was a little strange.

"UNSC ships are designed so that no single point can be hit and result in the death of every single person aboard. If a reactor is pierced, emergency valves cut off the fuel before it can destabilize. If the bridge is destroyed, the ship's basic functions can be operated from terminals on all decks. Either the Covenant did not expect anyone to be able to board their ships, or they don't seem to value the lives of their personnel as much as the UNSC does," Halsey said.

"Probably both," Sheila shrugged.

"The design is weak there, but look how much of a beating it took on the outside," Jack said. "If the bridge on that ship was near the front, like our ships, then it wouldn't survived long,"

"Spectroscopic analysis shows their hull material isn't something the UNSC is familiar with. It's about as heavy as titanium-A, but nearly twice as strong. Look at this," Halsey pulled up a holographic cross-section of the ship's armor.

"Just thick plating. There are no lattices, beams, or any other engineering devices to distribute impacts across the frame. They rely entirely on the technologically advanced armor,"

"It is so strange. We've used complex engineering to strengthen our ships and structures for thousands of years. The Covenant has such advanced technology, but they don't even know how to use it," Halsey frowned.

"We shouldn't apply human norms to aliens. Maybe engineering is just one of humanity's strong suits," Jack shrugged.

"Perhaps. Or maybe they don't know how to use it because they've never had to improve or evolve it. Maybe they didn't have to claw their way up the technological tree-if they had the tech all along, they might find no need to understand it," Halsey said.

_Just when does the UNSC learn about the Forerunners_? Jack didn't know. Halo Wars took place… in a couple years. _Is that the first time the UNSC finds out about them_?

"Enough of this. Let's talk about you two! How long has this been going on?" Halsey asked.

"I think about six hours," Jack grinned.

"Really? You guys seem like you've been dating for months," Halsey raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I've liked this evil genius," Jack raised her hand. "For a while now. It only recently came to a head,"

"What about you?" Halsey looked to Sheila. "Same story?"

"Nah. I just randomly smacked me in the face," Sheila smirked.

"Well, how did it smack you in the face?" Halsey asked.

"It just… happened. Out of nowhere. A random situation got romantic," Sheila shrugged.

"You already know this, don't you?" Jack laughed. "You've got us in cameras and mikes up to our necks,"

"Well, they were already there, but yes, I've been using them. The Spartans are incredibly interesting-you've almost created your own military subculture. And I have to say, you make the best soap operas ever," Halsey giggled.

"I'm not sure if I like you spying on us," Sheila said.

"Oh, spying is such a strong word. I see a fifteen-minute video of the highlights every day. I don't see anything inappropriate-plus, you have the closets for stuff you really don't want me to see," Halsey laughed.

"Wait a sec-have you been spying on all of us, or just me and Sheila?"

"Well, all of you," Halsey said. "Skipping the boring parts, of course,"

"Hmm. I know you've totally helped us out, I mean, I had a whole speech ready, but I didn't need to lift a finger. Thanks, but could you help me out one more time?"

* * *

"Hey, Jorge, I gotcha a present," Jack grinned as he tossed him a flash drive. On it was twenty-two seconds of video: April-130 confessing her feelings for a certain Gold Team Spartan to Douglas, and desperately asking for advice on how to proceed.

"What's this?" Jorge asked.

"Just go watch it,"

"Huh. Alright," Jorge lumbered off.

"That was a good thing you did," Sheila told him happily.

"Those two deserve it," Jack said before he kissed her. "Honestly, would you deny anyone this kind of happiness?"

Sheila pretended to concentrate for a second.

"Well, maybe-"

She was interrupted by a loud of whoop of exultation from the next room. Jack chuckled.

"Big man's a lot happier, I'd say," Jack said as Jorge rushed back in the room.

"Jack…," He was at a loss for words.

"I know," Jack said knowingly.

"You're…," Jorge grinned broadly.

"Awesome? Why yes, I am," Jack grinned and pounded his best friend on the back.

"Go get her," He said, and Jorge ran off laughing.

Jack held up a hand. "Wait for it… wait for it… three, two, one…,"

Jorge ran back in the room, panicking.

"What the hell do I say?" He asked.

Jack held up a fist and Sheila pounded it.

"Totally pegged it," Jack laughed.

"Seriously. How do I do this?" Jorge asked.

"Huh. You know, I don't know. Sheila, how did we do it?" Jack asked.

"I'm not sure," Sheila said. "It just happened," Jack laughed.

"Jorge, just start talking to her. Eventually she'll fall on top of you,"

Sheila laughed. "Yeah, don't expect that. But he's sorta right. Just talk-when the time's right, just let it happen. And don't freeze up,"

"Or panic," Sheila added.

"Best of luck, pal," Jack got up.

"Wait, what? That's it? Come on, you know more than you're letting on," Jorge frowned.

"Oh, yeah, crack a lot of jokes. Worked for me," Jack grabbed Jorge by the shoulders, spun him around, and pushed him out of the door.

"Good luck," Jack closed the door behind him.

"Alone at last," Sheila laughed.

"Damn, am I lucky or what?" Jack walked over and kissed her gently.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Alright, obviously, this chapter means a little more to me than the average one. For one, it may be the last chapter you'll see until December, hilarious and heartwarming death threats aside. I don't want to put up any spoilers, so another AN is at the end of the chapter.

"So, how long you think we'll be laid up?" Jack sounded very casual in the bunkroom, despite the fact that Sheila sat on his lap, making gooey eyes at him.

"I'd guess about two weeks," Jorge said, equally casually, with Alice-130 on his lap.

After the confrontation with the captain, it had taken less than a day to get the necessary repairs to the slipspace engine done. The real challenge, in terms of boredom, was the two-week slipspace journey that came afterward. Nevertheless, they'd won that battle. Well, most of them had.

Li was always quiet, but now he seemed perpetually flustered. With Sheila and Jack together, and with Jorge shacking up with Red Team's Alice, Li was the odd man out. No one seemed to have time to hang out with him. He just sat around, complaining.

"We just sat around for two weeks. I think I may go insane," Li said.

"You need… a girlfriend," Jack said as he kissed Sheila's neck. "Worked wonders for me,"

"I second that motion," Jorge grinned to Alice.

Li got up and stormed off, muttering angrily in Japanese.

"We need to help that poor guy out," Sheila said.

"I agree. He's not the easily-pissed type," Alice said.

"So… who likes Li?" Jack looked to Sheila, then Alice.

"What, you think it's one of us?" Alice asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, I mean, girls are all… you know, gossipy. If anyone knows, it's you guys," Jack shrugged.

"That's messed up," Sheila said.

"Yeah," Alice muttered.

"True, though, right?" Jack grinned.

"…A little bit," Sheila admitted sheepishly.

"So who likes Li?" Jack asked.

"If we knew, we would've told you," Alice said with a shrug.

"Can you, you know, find out?" Jorge asked. "Help the guy out?"

"What, right now?" Alice grinned.

"Well, I didn't say that…," Jorge kissed her. Jack sighed-he didn't like it, but he knew what he had to do.

"Sweetie, my legs are falling asleep. Can we take five?" He asked Sheila gently.

"Of course. I'll go ask around," Sheila got off, and Jack wished she hadn't. Eh, too late now. He wondered about how dependant he was on her. It probably wouldn't be healthy, if it hadn't been a two-way relationship. She cared just as much-Jack knew that was a fact.

_I'm so lucky_, he thought.

"Alright. Good luck. I'll talk to Li," Jack kissed her once, then let go. They shared a long look, then went their separate ways.

"Alone at last," Jorge chuckled, and Alice grinned evilly.

* * *

"So, how's it going?" Jack sat down next to the broody Spartan. He'd tracked him to the port observation deck-a five meter round window to space. Li was staring into it, cross-legged. He looked thoughtful.

"Not bad," Li said stonily.

"What's bugging you?" Jack asked.

"Nothing," Li said neutrally, not evasively, but with just enough run-around to annoy Jack. Just a little bit.

"Yeah, sure," Jack smiled. "Well, Sheila's looking for solutions,"

Li raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe you,"

"No, really. Sheila's asking around to see what girls are secretly panting after you. Once she's done, we'll do what we can to help you out," Jack grinned. "I know, it sucks being the fifth wheel,"

Li laughed suddenly.

"You guys do care," He said sarcastically. "It won't help,"

"Why?" Jack frowned.

Li dipped his head.

"Come on, why not?" Jack asked.

Li was quiet.

"We're a team. We can tell each other anything-I'm here for you, man,"

"You really want to know?" Li looked at him sharply.

"Of course," Jack was a little confused.

"No, you don't," Li looked away bitterly.

Jack stood up. "Ok, man, I'm getting sick of this horseshit. You can tell me, and I'll try to help. Or you can piss and moan. And I'll leave,"

Li smiled wryly. "She's rubbing off on you,"

Jack grinned. "I like to think so. So, yes or no?"

Li's smile locked up. It was more like a grimace. He took a deep breath.

"Well… I don't think finding me a girlfriend would really help. I'm… not really… a fan of that gender," Li said forcefully.

"I don't get it," Jack frowned.

"I don't like women," Li said, staring into space.

"Huh?"

"I'm not attracted to females," Li seemed to be getting a little angry at Jack's stupidity.

"Then what… are you…," Jack unconsciously inched away from his friend-when he noticed it, he almost hated himself for what he saw on Li's face.

"Men," Li whispered.

Jack had to consciously force himself to not back away. He had been raised in a conservative, rural area-not exactly enlightened. Most of his Uncle George's favorite insults and negative comments involved people like Jack's martial artist friend.

"I… don't know what to say," Jack said, but his calm voice was betrayed by the expression on his face.

"I understand. I forgive you. At least you haven't run off swearing or cursed me to Hell," Li said.

"How the hell… why didn't you tell us? I mean, come on, it's 2525. Jesus. If people aren't tolerant now, they'll never be," Jack shook his head.

"You aren't exactly positive about this," Li said sharply.

"Yeah… yeah, I know. I'm sorry. It's just how I was raised… I understand, logically, that this isn't a major deal, it's still _you_, obviously… But I was brought up differently. I feel like an asshole just saying it, but this is kind of a big deal to me," Jack blinked.

"Do you know why I haven't told anyone?" Li asked.

"No,"

"I was six when ONI took me. Six. Even then I was different. The single memory I have of my parents is their reaction after I told them," Li closed his eyes, and Jack saw a single tear.

"Holy shit… I'm sorry,"

"It wasn't hard to get kidnapped. After they made a scene-they were Fundamentalist Christian-I ran away. ONI didn't even need to flash clone me… I was simply a runaway that met a mystery end, to my family," Li shook his head. "Dr. Halsey said that it would be kinder than letting my parents watch a clone slowly die of neurological disorders. I was simply a missing kid-a runaway that would never be found,"

"Shit," Jack muttered weakly.

"It doesn't matter. I'm here-my parents, bigots that they are, aren't a part of my life. My life is Sheila, Jorge, and now… you," Li said.

"I'm glad to be your friend, Li," Jack got up and clapped him on the back.

"You too, Jack," Li said, then he frowned. "About the others…,"

"Do you want me to tell them?" Jack asked.

"I should do it. It would help the healing process," Li said.

"I could, if you want," Jack said.

"No. This is my fight," Li blinked slowly. Then he got up.

When Jack and Li got back, Jorge and Alice were gone, but Sheila was sitting there, looking vaguely lonely, fidgeting on the bunk. Jack smiled as his little corner of the universe lit up again, after that depressing conversation. He went to her.

"Sheila, you're mission is now moot," Jack said.

"Really? I found like four… potentials," Sheila glanced at Li.

"Really. Could you help is find Jorge? We need a team meeting," Jack said.

"Sure, but it might be difficult to pry him from Alice," Sheila got up.

Jack shot a questioning look at Li.

"I… would prefer it if Alice was not there. Just us," Gold's close-quarters expert said.

Sheila raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

"Alright, Jack, go towards the bow. Li, aft. I'll go up and down the decks," She said. "We meet back here in ten minutes,"

* * *

Jack had told Jorge about the unmonitored supply closets-he knew that's where the new couple would be making out, or worse, so that's where they'd need to look. He went from closet to closet, knocking three times, waiting three seconds, then opening the door. He was about five closets in when he heard a muffled sound after the knock, and the sound of brooms and mops cracking the floor.

"Wow, wow, don't open that door!" Jorge's voiced coughed.

"I'll give you two a minute to get your clothes on," Jack laughed. While Sheila was traditional, at least in this arena, Alice and Jorge were very enthusiastic in their physical relationship. At least they were using protection. Jack was just a little jealous- of Alice's openness. But he respected Sheila's belief that strength was in delayed gratification, even if certain parts of him didn't particularly like it.

Jorge and Alice emerged, disheveled and happy. Jorge's shirt was inside out. Alice's hair was wet on one side-did they knock over a bucket? Jack shook the image out of his head.

"We have a… well, I'm not sure if I could call it an emergency, but it's important they you get over here right now," Jack said to Jorge.

"Team meeting?" Gold's heavy weapons specialist asked.

"Team meeting," Jack smiled apologetically at Alice, who sighed.

"Ah, well. Doug and Jerome have been complaining I haven't been hanging out with them," She shrugged.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Let's go, big guy," Jack said. Jorge kissed Alice goodbye and they headed back.

"So what's this about?" Jorge asked. "I was kind of busy,"

Jack laughed. "Such a gentleman! But I don't think it's my place to say. You'll see soon enough,"

Jack hit a light jog, and Jorge kept up.

"By the way, you're shirt's inside out," Jack chuckled.

"Ah, crap," Jorge whipped it off, turned it right side in, then back on. Jack laughed.

"It's still backwards," He said, and Jorge sucked his arms in the shirt, turned it around.

"I'm good?" Jorge asked.

"You're good," Jack said, and then they were there.

Sheila and Li were already there, and by the pseudo-pissed look on Jack's dream girl's eyes, she'd already tried to find out what this was about, and hadn't succeeded.

"Alright," Li started. "Thanks for coming, and please don't overreact," The last part sounded almost like a plea.

"What's this about?" Jorge asked, not unkindly.

"I already talked to Jack, who's been pretty good about this. Take a seat, please," Li said. Jack, Jorge, and Sheila sat.

"I'm gay," Li said.

"Wow, what?" Sheila exclaimed.

"I'm gay," Li said again, apologetically.

"Almost a decade of solid training together and you fail to mention this until _right now_?" Sheila was pissed.

"Well… what?" Li looked confused.

"We've been best buds _since we were six_, you bastard!" Sheila shouted and stood up. "And we just learn about this _now_?"

"Well, it didn't seem to be a big deal until everyone around me started shacking up-"

"Don't make this about us, you jerk!" Sheila grabbed Jack's hand and pulled him up. Jack looked like a guy who'd been sucked into a tornado.

"Sheila, calm down-" Jorge said.

"I will not calm down! This is _bullshit_!"

Jack swung around and hugged her hard-both an attempt to hose her down with enough affection to settle her down, and a successful effort to pin her arms to her sides and pick her up off of the ground.

"Let me go! I'll kill him!" Sheila shouted, but she was already being settled by the hug.

"No you won't, sweetheart. He's your friend, and he needs some backup, so I'll let you go if you promise to hug him," Jack said gently. He kissed her cheek and looked her in the eye.

"You… bastard…," She said even as he melted her. "Shit… ok,"

"Promise?" Jack kissed her other cheek.

"Yeah. Promise," Sheila sighed, then kissed him back. He set her down.

"I'm still pissed at you," She said to Li, but the fire was out.

"You did promise," He teased. She walked over and they embraced.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sheila asked.

"I was scared. But it's over now," Li said.

"You good, Jorge?" Jack asked.

"Yeah. But I understood what Sheila felt like," He rumbled.

"I'm sorry, Jorge," Li said.

"It's all right, Spartan. I get how you could keep it down all that time-at least until me and Alice and Jack and Sheila started gettin' at it," Jorge shrugged, then smiled.

"So… we agreed? This changed nothing?" Jack smiled.

"Not a thing," Jorge said.

"Yep. What he said," Sheila said.

"….Yes. This changes nothing," Li nodded, and grinned.

AN: Yeah, this is fairly significant to me. My uncle is a generous guy, a certified genius with an IQ, if I remember correctly, like 170. He's also gay. When my fundamentalist granddad found out, he disowned him for it. Which was an insanely cruel and terrible act to do to your own son. So, yeah, it was a major push towards atheism, for me. This one goes out to Uncle Steve-keep being awesome. But enough about my baggage. To you guys-for loving this little writing exercise as much as I do. If NaNoWriMo will be as costly to my time and energy as I think, this may be the last chapter until December. Man, I wish I had the creative stamina to do both! *raises an imaginary glass of Canadian R&R whiskey to you dudes* Keep being awesome. And Happy Halloween!


	15. Chapter 15

Gold Team had been ready to stay silent on Li's behalf, but he'd refused to hide like he should be ashamed. So, word spread fast. Very fast. Turned out that Li was either the only gay Spartan, or the first to come out. There weren't any problems with the other Spartans-Li was a member of their family, had been since they were all six years old.

The problems came from the crew. Naval personnel and marines. Mostly enlisted-the officers had at the very least been educated. You didn't even need to have a high school diploma to be a marine in the UNSC. Jack had been a little confused by this. Back home, a high school diploma was required to enlist. He'd looked it up when he'd been considering it.

Li faced glares, evil eyes, and muttered comments, and that was the soft stuff. There were shouted Bible verses and spit, some malicious pranks and even a few threats. Some of them, the worst, came from enlisted men and women that were higher rank than he was, but too low to have required any real education. Li was a Petty Officer Second Class, like most of the Spartans, and had to take it. Not that every lower-ranked crewman was homophobic. But the Commonwealth was a close ship-hundreds of crew. Jack guessed that one in ten were like this. It was enough to torture Li.

It was made a hundred times worse by Captain Wallace. Embittered and furious with the Spartans in general and Gold Team in particular, he'd given the orders: Open season. He'd turn a blind eye. Jack was unspeakably angry that his friend was getting punished for his issues with the Captain. He'd alternated between screaming at lower-ranked bigots and sincerely apologizing to Li for his part in it. If he hadn't pissed of Wallace, Li'd be fine.

Li was in one of Commonwealth's hallways, wiping away spit from his gray uniform. Jack had just about ripped the Privates responsible in half. He'd screamed himself hoarse.

"I can't believe those sons of bitches," Jack fumed. Li was surprisingly calm.

"You demean yourself as much as them by sinking to their level,"

"These people aren't the kind to get moved by peaceful conversation or hugs," Jack glared at the hall the young men had fled down.

"Perhaps. But they will definitely not be moved by anger and hate," Li shrugged.

"I don't give a shit if they aren't moved. As long as they leave Gold alone," Jack said. "We transition back to normal space in a couple minutes, right?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?" Li looked worried.

"I'm tired of these idiots. We need an endgame on this,"

"I don't like your tone," Li said cautiously.

"Equal rank, man," Jack grinned. "I win. I'm going to go see Halsey,"

* * *

"This has got to stop," Jack finished. Halsey had been completely still while he gave his eloquent and decisively angry speech. "Wallace needs to be put in his place,"

"This isn't the time for insubordination," Halsey said. "But, obviously, I share your concerns about Li. No one can take that much abuse and stay fit for duty. So, I've been drafting a new protocol, and with luck I can push it through ONI within an hour after we hit normal space,"

"Great. But, how…," Jack looked confused.

"I'll give you a summary-the Spartan-IIs are so effective, so vital to the war effort, that any physical, mental, or psychological strains are to be considered a severe diminishment to their abilities, and thus, the success of the UNSC. If anything comes up that threatens even the moral of my Spartans, they will have carte blanche to solve the problem, their way. The Spartans can be the judge, jury, and executioner," Halsey smiled, and it scared Jack, just a little.

"How is that possible? I mean, it sounds like this gives Spartans the ok to do whatever the hell they want. They can just declare that working thirty hours a week is detrimental to moral, and demand vacation time whenever they want. I could just go to the bridge and stick my boot in Wallace's ass," Jack shook his head.

"You're thinking like a civilian, following the letter of the law, not the spirit. UNSC protocol can be very strict and specific, but sometimes things like this can't be solved by lawyers. The UNSC follows the spirit of the law, and if there is an aggrieved party, a panel can investigate, whether or not a rule has been broken. If someone complains, then a follow up investigation is begun. If a Spartan abuses this little power, which I doubt any of them would even think about doing, then one complaint can lead to a lot of trouble,"

"How can you push this past ONI so quickly?" Jack didn't really believe she had that much power in the organization.

"Spartans are highly classified, but among the higher clandestine operatives and desk jockeys of ONI you are common knowledge. Not to mention heroes-they know you're battle record, and they know it's just the beginning. And I have considerable strength in Section Three-they've learned their lesson, and will listen to me. Things have been streamlines-if an Insurrectionist raid found a new way to board a ship, countermeasure protocols could be implemented immediately. I plan to use those same channels," Halsey grinned the icy grin again, and Jack felt an electric thrill.

"What are the limits to how we can fix issues?" Jack never dreamed that she'd give him the answer he'd hoped for.

"Virtually none," Halsey smiled, and Jack was both scared and excited.

"Send me a message once the protocol becomes active. I better suit up,"

* * *

It took the better part of thirty minutes to get every piece of armor right. He could've rushed in, but he was in no hurry. If he'd timed this correctly, he had half an hour to go. He checked and rechecked everything. It figured-just as the helmet connected with a satisfying click, Sheila walked in the Armory.

"How's it going?" She smiled a smile so peaceful and serene that if Jack didn't know better, he would think she was a dark-haired angel. Jack smiled under the visor.

"About to give Li a helping hand," He explained his insane plan to Sheila, the queen of all insane plans. Not surprisingly, she was appalled.

"How can you even think about this?"

Jack wasn't surprised. Sheila, great as she was, had been raised with strict military discipline since she was a child. Threatening or assaulting a CO was not in her playbook.

"It probably won't get violent. I just need him to get his boys off Li's back," Jack shrugged, and attached a combat knife to his chest plate.

"You're fucking kidding me!" Sheila seemed to be torn between her feeling for Jack and her entire childhood. Jack put a hand on her cheek.

"I got this, sweetie. Don't try and stop me," He walked past her.

The armor wasn't strictly necessary. Of course, if Wallace pulled a gun on him, Jack would be thankful for the armor. But even if he did, Jack's reflexes and strength would almost definitely carry the day. The MJOLNIR was mostly just for shock & awe-psychological warfare.

He found himself at the bridge. He loitered at the entrance for a few minutes, carefully considering what he'd do and say. He grinned when he got it. A few minutes later, a message appeared on his HUD:

_Protocol is a go_.

Jack took a deep breath. Then he entered the bridge. It was staffed with the usual assortment-nav, weapons, ops, a lot of junior officers. Wallace looked bored at his chair-apparently just starting to read a new protocol.

"Captain, sir," Jack saluted. Wallace nodded, then realized who he was talking to.

"At ease," His voice dripped with contempt.

"Sir, there is a situation in the hall that demands your immediate attention," Jack said.

"You can handle it, Spartan,"

"It requires you, sir," Jack said.

"Bring it here," Wallace said, and Jack hesitated. Should he do it with everyone looking? Naw. He wasn't that cruel.

"Sir, you'll thank me for not showing this to you in front of the bridge crew,"

"I doubt that," Wallace grimaced, than got up. Jack grinned behind the visor.

They walked out to the hall. Jack remembered Sheila's reaction… he decided to go easy on Wallace. At least at first.

He stopped and looked Wallace in the eye.

"Alright," He said easily. "Let's see how far I have to go with this,"

"What are you talking about?" Wallace sneered.

"I'm deciding if I'll need to hurt you to get what I want," Jack popped his neck.

"What?" Wallace laughed, just a little nervously. "I'm not only an officer, I'm your CO,"

"Yep. And I'm a Spartan. So I'm going to tell you this in easy language, so there's no confusion-you're going to punish everyone who's messed with my bud Li, and you're going to punish everyone who messes with Li from now on. He's off-limits," Jack said calmly.

"I don't take orders from you," Wallace said coldly. "Get the hell out of here,"

Jack didn't move an inch for a second. Then he took a step forward.

"You were reading that new protocol. I'll tell you what it says right now-Spartans are beyond you. You can't do anything against us. If you so much as shoot me the evil eye, I'll say it 'lowers moral' or whatever, and I'll have free reign to do whatever I want to you. Interference gives us the ability to make your life hell. Any marines that bug Li will end up in the Medical Bay with broken legs. So you're going to order them to leave him alone, for their sakes,"

"You can't do this!" Wallace looked distinctly scared, now-he could see his protection melting away. The little, invisible barrier between himself and a pissed off super-soldier was gone. He took a step forward.

_Oh, no_, Jack groaned inwardly. There were two kinds of people-people who saw threats and ran away, and people who confronted them, to hell with the odds. He'd hoped Wallace was in the wuss camp.

"If you lay a hand on any of my men, I'll have you cleaning toilets, stuffed in the brig, drummed out of service, _shot out the fucking airlock_," Wallace jabbed a finger at Jack's armored chest.

Jack grabbed the finger between his thumb and forefinger. He bent it back, and Wallace followed it with a gasp of pain. He turned it up at a right angle, Wallace dropped to his knees. He let go.

"Last chance. My girlfriend wouldn't like it if I hurt you. Don't make me," Jack saw that referring to his recent victory did nothing but inflame Wallace-a mistake. The Captain's hand darted for the pistol in the hip holster, and Jack reacted instinctively.

He straightened his hand into an armored shovel, palm facing upwards, and locked the articulation. Then, with the strength and speed only an augmented and armored Spartan could pull off, he got on one knee and drove the armored wedge into Wallace's solar plexus, just below his ribcage.

A normal person doing this would have stunned Wallace, knocking the wind out of him. Jack's hand punched through the uniform, skin, muscle, and tissue up to his knuckles. Jack unlocked the articulation. His long fingers brushed Wallace's lungs as they curled upward, around his ribcage.

With one hand, Jack lifted Wallace until the stunned Captain's head brushed the ceiling.

"If you want to shoot a Spartan, you'll need something bigger than this," Jack said coldly. His left hand grabbed the pistol, crushing the action and rendering it useless.

Jack pivoted and threw Captain Wallace headfirst thirty feet down the hall, the Captain doing a slow half-turn in midair before slamming his back against the door, and collapsing on the deck.

Jack opened the door to the bridge.

"Get medical personnel over here. The Captain's injured," He said to the horrified bridge crew. Jack noticed his right hand was covered in gore.

"The prick'll be fine. Read that protocol before making me kill any security crew-it'll explain my actions," Jack calmly walked out, stepped past the barely conscious, bleeding Wallace, and went to the bathroom, were he rinsed off his gauntlet.

_Sheila will be so pissed_… Jack sighed. It was his only regret. Wallace had tried to shoot him-he was well within his rights to… punch him… to his ribcage… and throw him, by said ribcage… Jack found himself laughing. Life was always interesting in the Halo universe.


	16. Chapter 16

AN: Ok, I know I should be focusing on Nano. Stop telling me to do the right thing, I know! The reality is, though, that being original is really goddamn hard. I mean, I write a fair amount of humor, action, and maybe a little too much romance into this, right? Those things are really fun to write, while, on the other hand, writing a novel is hard, and very non-fun. Like 5% of the humor, 1% of the action, and no romance so far to speak of. I can't half-ass it-I'm trying to get 1667 words a day, trying to stretch out little things so they're massive. There's more thought involved. And it's way less fun. And I get no reviews! _Review_!

The more Jack saw of the UNSC, the more he admired the simple efficiency. Things got done fast, and they mostly got done right. Thanks to the fine-tuned engine that was the Monkey Wrench repair-and-refit station, the Commonwealth had been back up and running in less than two weeks. Every frigate in the UNSC was built along the same structural principals-most of the repair process was just slicing out broken and melted parts and welding on prefabricated parts. The Monkey Wrench had enough components to assemble two frigates on-hand, just in case. It was a good system, getting ships and crews back into the fight fast.

Which was the real blessing, in Jack's eyes. After repairs, the Commonwealth had been sent on another long slipspace journey to New Trinity, in the Sigma Rho system. It was on the very outskirts of the Outer Colonies, one of the three systems that were in spitting distance of Harvest, the first planet glassed by the Covenant. Each system had over a half dozen ships.

High Command figured that if the Covenant were up for round two, they'd better put the gloves on. Gold Team was one of several Spartan teams, scattered throughout the New Trinity defense fleet. It was depressing, knowing that other Spartans were so close, yet so far. Standing orders meant that everyone was to be on emergency standby-ready to fight within five minutes. Since it took so long to put on MJOLNIR, and since travel between starships took about six minutes one-way, this meant that they couldn't really see or talk to the others. Jorge talked to Alice via video every day.

Jack knew he was lucky, despite the fact that he wore he armor twenty-three hours a day, getting out only to shower and clean the insides so it didn't smell like feet. He didn't really mind the smell-figured he'd get used to it-but Sheila had objected.

She usually won those little arguments. Jack just grinned and agreed without thinking whenever she got mad; she was so cute when she was angry. And he didn't really mind. It would've taken a while to get used to the smell of feet anyway.

He lov-_liked_ the hell out of her, but she was getting more frustrated by the minute. It had been over a month since the Battle of Chi Ceti-and even during that major fight, she'd basically just floated around while Blue Team hogged all the glory. She'd been trained since she was six, but dammit, she was getting paid to sit around and wait for the Covenant to get their asses in gear.

Jack savored these little moments. He soaked 'em in every second he could. Every day he'd get out of his MJOLNIR as fast as he could, shower with breakneck speed, wash the inside of the armor with a washcloth and a lot of lemon-scented stuff from a bottle, and spent the remaining time with her, staring out of the starboard observation bay. Then, he'd play beat-the-clock and get back in his lemony armor before the one-hour mark hit, as ordered by Captain Wallace.

It never lasted longer than ten minutes, in each other's arms, staring into space. It was pretty good, though.

The hour rule pissed him off, though. Ninety-nine percent of combat personnel could be ready for a battle inside five minutes-just not Spartans. Wallace, only recently back from commanding from the Medical Bay, set the hour rule.

Jack chuckled to himself. Wallace. Apparently the damage from Jack's uber solar plexus jab had been… respectable. The docs liked to use the word 'pulverize', but Jack preferred to call it 'slice'. Whatever it had been, Jack had done it through a lot of muscle that anchored the abdomen to the ribcage, rendering the Captain unable to fail to do a single sit-up without tremendous pain. Add that to a 'cracked', Jack always called it 'cracked', vertebrae from hitting the wall, and things might not have been so great. Wallace had decided to make a tactical retreat from the Spartans' personal lives after that.

Jack had gotten a lot of laughs out of that. Unfortunately, Jorge, Li, and even Shiela sometimes looked at him as some kind of animal. With their level of indoctrination and training, not saluting your CO was just short of treasonous. To try to grab him by the sternum and toss him across the room was beyond words. Totally unthinkable.

It had been a gigantic fight. Sheila was beyond shocked that Jack had done it. It still hurt to think about, but she'd looked like she'd considered breaking up over it. In the end, though, Jack had explained and apologized, promised never to do it again.

The make-up was pretty epic. Second base-first glimpse and feel of Sheila's…. never mind. It might have actually progressed from that, but Jack put the brakes on.

She was in a pretty messed-up state. Emotionally roller-coastering. Rage and guilt and a lot of conflicting stuff that Jack was sure he wouldn't completely understand, even if she was feeling it. She was vulnerable-wide open. Jack, _no matter how much_ he wanted to whip out the condom he'd been saving in the notch between his MJOLNIR's chest plate and body suit, didn't think he could forgive himself if he'd taken it up a notch when she was like that. It wouldn't've been right. It would have been… Jack thought he sounded pretty smart as the word came to mind… 'unchivalrous'.

With blood pumping to his brain, Sheila in his arms, he figured he'd made the right choice-they'd never been closer. He smiled to himself. Then he kissed her forehead.

"It's about time," He murmured. She grunted and frowned, nuzzling closer. He chuckled deep in his throat and stood up from the metal chair, carrying her easily.

"This is so unfair," She whispered with her eyes closed.

"I know, honey. Now come on," Jack put her on her feet, and she yawned and stretched.

"Captain's an asshole,"

"He's improving. Let's get a move on," He said gently as he started pulling on the body suit. Jack had figured out how to get the suit on without the techs, as did all the other Spartans.

He'd clicked most of the armor pieces in place when the emergency klaxons blared, startling the crap out of him.

"_All hands, battle stations. Prepare to repel boarders. Pilots, to your birds. Let's give 'em hell, people_,"

* * *

"Oh my god, finally, some Covenant!" Sheila cried as the Commonwealth bucked underneath them. Jorge chuckled and nodded, and Li did nothing but eye his knuckle-duster. Jack was wearing his helmet, like all of them, and couldn't see their faces, but he knew their expressions anyway: Sheila was excited, grinning her head off. Jorge looked calmly bemused, and Li looked razor sharp and focused. Things were decidedly less boring, about to get even less so.

There hadn't been any boarding parties repelled by the Covenant, yet, so no one knew where to put the reaction force. At the moment, they were just standing in the mess hall, which was fairly close to the center of the ship, in full combat load. Most of the thirty-odd marines hefted an MA3 rifle, while Gold Team was using the modified sniper rifles Jack had come up with. With a shorter barrel, reasonable scope, and extended clips, these guns were truly Spartan material. He was pretty proud of them.

Jack had learned to deal with boredom. While most of the marines were perked up, ready to fight now, Jack knew that adrenaline would have its place later. He sat down at one of the long tables. Jorge gave him a weird look, then laughed and sat down with him. That prompted the rest of Gold to do the same.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" A Private asked incredulously.

"If we have boarders to kill, then they'll tell us. And we'll go do it. No need to get worked up before the hard work starts," Jack shrugged. "Come on, have a seat. What's your name?"

"P-Private Sinthe," He said.

"I didn't ask for your rank, Private," Jack chuckled. "What's your name?"

"Uh, Bill Sinthe,"

"Alright. Cool. Sit on dow-"

"_Boarders near shuttle bay alpha! Boarders in shut_-" Jack heard a painfully familiar whine of plasma fire over the intercom, then a cry of pain.

"Dammit," Jack and the Spartans jumped up.

"We'll get there faster!" Sheila yelled. "Marines, double-time it to catch up!"

Sheila raced off at forty miles an hour, and the rest raced off after her, leaving the marines stunned in their wake.

"Plan?" Jack shouted from behind Sheila, the bigger Spartan struggling to keep up.

"Kill them all!" She screamed. Jack only had a second to ponder this-darting through arches and around corners, they still reached the shuttle bay remarkable fast. The door was open, and Jack saw his first Grunts and Jackals inside.

The hangar was essentially a massive square room. The hangar doors had already opened and disgorged its fighters and bombers-what Wallace hadn't expected was two Covenant Spirit dropships. The door closed automatically and repressurized, probably heartening the aliens. A dozen Grunts, eight Jackals, and one arrogant blue Elite. Jack wondered why just one… and couldn't think of a clear answer. The canon was maddeningly contradictory on this point-John sees an Elite for the first time over Reach like thirty years from now, but in Halo Wars and other stuff, Elites and even Brutes were common.

_God, I hope I don't have a fight a Brute_! Jack thought fervently. He didn't know if they were more like the massive invincible gorillas of off Halo 2, the Elite clones from Halo 3, or in the middle, like in Reach.

Sheila charged in like the madwoman she was. She leapt-her boot slamming straight down onto the forehead of a Jackal and forcing it to the floor, through its abdomen, firing her massive rifle with her right hand, her knife stabbed another Grunt in the neck with the left hand. Jack's fears of having no energy shields vanished as he heard her whooping battle cry; he laughed and swung his rifle in a wide arc, snapping a neck with the sheer force of the barrel, a heavy round punching through two Grunts.

Jorge fired his rifle at the Elite, freezing for a millisecond as it's personal shields absorbed the shot, though collapsing. Li cussed in Japanese as he dodged a return shot, shooting his own through the Elite's serpentine neck.

The initial surprise over, the return fire was heavy. Jack gasped in pain as a plasma shot-just a normal, green, little plasma shot from a Covenant pistol, seared into his side. He cussed loudly then returned the favor.

Jack dodged a plasma grenade and threw his own frag, taking out a Grunt and a Jackal.

The Spartans smashed, cut, and shot through the Covenant horde. Jack took two more shots to his thick chest plate. These thankfully didn't hurt nearly as much-the thick plating took the damage.

When it was over, Gold Team was covered in scorch marks and two different colors of blood. Jorge was limping, Li and Jack were clutching their sides, and Sheila was panting.

Then the marines burst in.

Jack couldn't help it. He'd just stared death in the face, _and kicked his ass_, and he couldn't stop himself from laughing. It was so great! He guffawed until his side hurt, and Gold joined in.

"Really?" Li snickered at the marines. "Shit, really?"

"Just in the nick of time!" Jorge boomed with laughter.

"Jesus…," Sheila giggled herself into a coughing fit.

They knew that the Battle of New Trinity was just getting started-but at that moment, they really didn't care. They were four teenagers laughing until they cried.


	17. Chapter 17

The Covenant attacked New Trinity with two frigates, against the six UNSC ships which ranged from frigates and destroyers to a massive cruiser. Three UNSC ships were slag, and the rest were heavily damaged.

Apparently the Covenant hadn't expected such a fight in orbit, especially after trouncing UNSC ships other engagements. They'd packed for a ground game, assuming that two frigates would be more than enough to handle spaceborn defenses. Obviously, they'd underestimated their enemies.

Dozens of troop carriers had snuck past while the UNSC fleet duked it out. Not the little Spirits, but oval ships three times the size of the traditional dropship. These ships carried upwards of a hundred Covenant soldiers baying for blood, each.

They landed as fast as they could-civilians were getting massacred. That was why Gold Team and Green Team had been shot out of SOEIVs, the single-occupant pods used almost exclusively by Helljumpers, and were currently rocketing at Hiedelsburg, the largest population center, under siege by a couple thousand Covenant.

"Status, Gold?" Sheila crackled over the radio.

"Green," Li said.

"Quite comfortable," Jorge said calmly.

"I asked for a bloody mary, not a glass of wine," Jack said as his pod bucked. "This stewardess is an idiot. And I still haven't got my peanuts,"

That elicited chuckles from Gold. Jack grinned. Nothing to break the tensions like some good-natured insanity. Jack was burying his nervousness in big 'ol pile of I-don't-give-a-shit. It worked for him.

"Everyone remember the plan?" Sheila asked as rockets on the floor of the pods flared, slowing them down.

"We had a plan?" Jack joked.

They would hit feet-first about a block apart, in a rough cordon around the advancing army. Their job was both to slow them down, to give the civvies time to evacuate, and to cause as much havoc and death as possible on such short notice. Which turned out to be a lot.

Jack was packing his custom rifle, upgraded for fifty-five caliber, two fifty-cal magnums, and a rocket launcher that looked much larger in real life than it had in the games. Four extra rockets and fifty pounds of extra ammunition made Jack feel very, very badass.

Jack wished he could see through the floor of the HEV-he really had no idea when he would hit the ground, so it was startling as all hell when the hand of God seemed to slap into the bottom of the pod with the force of a hurricane, knocking the wind and metaphorical piss out of Jack.

"That… sucked," Jack shook his head.

"I know, right?" Jorge coughed. Jack pushed a button, and the front of the pod unlocked and fell away. Jack clipped his weapons and ammo to the magnetic locks on his back and thighs. Then he stepped out and slid, almost falling on his ass. He chuckled nervously as he saw that the slippery blue fluid was the blood of a Grunt that his pod had crushed.

Jack hefted his rifle and took a careful step out of his pod. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a pack of Grunts, curiously led by what looked like a Jackal in long robes.

"What the hell?" He chuckled. They hadn't seen him, so he introduced himself.

One well-placed round shot through a Grunt, the Jackal's chest, and another Grunt. A second, third, and fourth shot left just one dazed survivor. Jack stuck his rifle to his thigh, and took out a pistol. Maybe High Command would want a survivor.

The Grunt squealed when it saw him, and tried to run.

Now, Jack knew he had to be careful here. The gun he held had the power to tear limbs off. So he aimed carefully-nicked the little crab-monkey in the arm.

The shot spun the Grunt around, leaving a long blue scratch up its arm, but otherwise didn't hurt it. Jack jogged up to it and policed a plasma pistol and two plasma grenades.

"Huh. I wonder if the Covenant has personal translators on their troops yet," Jack mused as the Grunt curled up into the fetal position. "Hey, little guy, let's get you out of the street," Jack slung the Grunt over his shoulder and threw him inside a clothing store. Then he tied him up with a couple discount sweaters.

"I'll be back for you. Try to run, you'll die with a foot-sized hole in your chest. Like your buddies. You understand me?" The Unggoy just stared, until Jack gestured with his gun. He pointed firmly to the ground, then pointed the gun at the Grunt.

"Stay… stay," Jack pointed outside the store, then mimed shooting the Grunt.

"Get it?" Jack said slowly. The alien cocked its head and chittered in a compliant way.

"Good. Stay," Jack to a stealthy look outside, and saw a much bigger pack of Grunts down the street, led by a massive red Elite. Jack would have thought a group like that a minor challenge under almost any circumstance in any of the video games. It was a little different here. For one thing, there was no respawning. Big difference. Then there was the fact that he had no shields, and the fact that a well-aimed plasma shot hurt like hell. He had a few advantages in his favor, though.

His massive guns would not have been allowed in the very balanced Halo he grew up with. He was so limited, then, too-in the games, he couldn't kill a Grunt and hold up its corpse as an improvised shield. He couldn't stun an alien by throwing something heavy at it first. There was almost unlimited freedom here.

Jack wondered why the streets were so empty. Except for the odd human corpse, which Jack took pains to not look at, the streets were completely abandoned. He was slightly relieved. He didn't want to see what the Covenant was really capable of.

Jack felt partially inspired by the concept of throwing something. He grabbed the hard heavy ceramic/plastic stuff that the checkout counter was made of and loudly broke it into four pieces. They were all jagged, sharp, and looked slightly like stone age Frisbees.

Jack laughed evilly in his head. This had all taken about two seconds.

Then he raced to the second floor. If Elites were anything like humans, then their eyes were always focused forward and to the sides, not up. Reflexes didn't matter when you didn't see something coming. Jack hefted the biggest Frisbee-a square foot, about twenty pounds.

At times like this, Jack loved being one of the strongest Spartans.

He coiled his body right inside the window, and flung the projectile with all his strength. It spun and flew the fifty yards to the Elite's face in less than half a second, knocking out its shields and pulping it's mandibles. Jack threw one more that stuck six inches into its helmet. The Elite fell on the ground, dead.

Jack knew it hadn't been necessary, but damn, was it fun. And it saved ammo. The ten Grunts screamed and tried to scatter, but Jack grabbed a pistol in each hand and blew them away with Spartan speed and accuracy. Even through his helmet, the report was almost deafening.

He returned to his prisoner, who he caught in the act of trying to gnaw through the sweater that bound his arms. Jack sighed, then pistol-whipped the poor crab-monkey.

"Hey. Hey!" Jack grabbed its head and forced it to look at him. He pointed to himself.

"Jack. Jack," He pointed at the alien, who looked perplexed. He pointed back to himself.

"Jack," He slowly and exaggeratedly pointed at the Grunt.

"…Kitik," Its voice was the strangest combination of grinding gravel and helium-filled child.

"Kitik. Good," Jack holstered his gun. Kitik took this as a good sign. He started jabbering away, until Jack raised a fist. Then it shut up.

Jack stood there for a second, then shrugged. He couldn't think of how to get any meaningful information out of this ugly crab-monkey. It was no threat, so he untied its arms. He took out an energy bar and handed it to the Grunt, who stared at it, sniffed it, then lifted its mask for a second, swallowing it whole. Damn, it was ugly. But it might earn some brownie points with ONI.

He stiffened as it untied its legs. It held out a hand, and Jack was slightly confused, until it motioned for the plasma pistol on his leg.

"Wow, I don't think so. You're a POW, be thankful for the food," Then he saw a dozen motion tracker contacts. He stood up rapidly, and the Grunt cowered, crawling towards the corner.

Jack got out his rifle, ignoring Kitik. The contacts got closer. Jack might need to get creative.

But then… the dozen contacts became two dozen. Three dozen. Holy shit, was this the entire Covenant army?

"_You guys seeing this_?" Sheila sounded ecstatic over the radio.

"_Wish I wasn't, but yeah_," Jorge said.

"Let's get loud," Jack hollered.

He ran upstairs and looked outside a window, careful to hide his bulk behind curtains. Holy shit.

His motion tracker didn't read many contacts because it had limited range. Hundreds of Covenant swarmed down the street, filling the four lanes and sidewalks. Jack hefted his rocket launcher and grabbed a grenade.

He could empty both tubes, run to the third floor, fire two more, then get to the roof, and run out, throwing grenades all the while. He estimated he could take down fifty Covies that way.

Or… he could get creative.

Jack grinned as he ran right to the roof. These buildings weren't built for military action, so they weren't that tough. Jack sighted the rocket launcher and aimed right at the edge of the sidewalk. He shot one rocket, aimed twenty feet up the sidewalk, fired again. The supports cracked as the weight of a five-story apartment complex weighed on the fractured sewer system below it. Eventually, the supports beneath the surface buckled, just as two more rockets hit the supporting pillars keeping all the building's weight up.

The building collapsed just as the underground support structure collapsed, turning the apartment forty-five degrees and spilling thousands of pounds of concrete and rubble on at least half of the Covenant swarm.

Two rockets left. The building opposite the new parking lot didn't have obvious support pillars. So Jack just shot them at the enemy. Then he threw the grenades. Then he fired his rifle. When that ran out of ammo, he switched to his pistols. They just kept coming, and some were even crawling out of the edge of the collapsed building.

When his pistol ammo was about half used up, Jack ran downstairs and checked on the prisoner. The Grunt was just sitting there, oblivious.

"Kitik, come on!" Jack waved his gun. "We gotta move!"

He groaned and just slung the squealing Unggoy over his shoulder. Then he ran like hell.

"Rendezvous point?" Jack yelled into the radio. Nothing. "Sheila? Come on, sweetheart, don't leave me hanging!"

There was a faint, weak cough. Jack froze in horror. Then he pinged her, set a nav beacon on her in his HUD. Then he ran parallel to the Covenant army, to Sheila's position. He saw four Grunts and an Elite laying heavy fire on a cover than was made of two cars turned on their sides. Jack saw weak return fire over the side. A Grunt threw a plasma grenade over the cover.

"_No_!" He threw Kitik to the side and charged the Covenant line. The Elite he blindsided, swinging his knife so fast and so hard it punched through the shields and throat, the tip poking out the back of the neck. He pulled it pack as his left hand shot a Grunt through the eye, and then his foot swung around, caught a Grunt around the neck, pulled it to the ground, stomped it's head.

Then he threw the knife through a Grunt's breathing mask, and shot the last Grunt in the face.

The plasma grenade exploded.

"_Fuck_!" Jack vaulted over the ruined cars… Sheila was on the ground. Blood and hydrostatic gel oozed from the blackened joints of her MJOLNIR armor. Her pulse was jerky and uneven. Jack whipped out a can of biofoam. He tried to stick it in an injection port in her armor-but the alloy had melted over and wouldn't open up. He tried three more before using his knife and scraping away semi-molten metal from under her left arm. He pumped her full of it, and she gasped quietly. Jack knew it wasn't pleasant.

Motion tracker contacts. A lot of them.

"_This is Colonel Horotser, and I am ordering all UNSC personnel within Hiedelsburg to break and evacuate now! Covenant ships massing by Sigma Rho Four. Too many! Break and retreat now_!"

Jack wasn't the type to break and run. Not when he was low on ammo, and especially not when the girl of his goddamn dreams was lying mortally wounded and her attackers were coming to him. Oh, no. This sounded like a great last stand, and with the adrenaline pumping through his system, Jack knew he could take a lot down to hell with him.

But Sheila. She couldn't run. When Jack fell, she would be next. Jack shook with rage that he had to choose between revenge and love.

In the end, though, it wasn't even a choice. Jack hefted her over his shoulder. He saw Kitik sitting awestruck on the ground.

"Follow! Come on!" Jack spoke as if he was talking to a dog, and got roughly the same results. Finally, he just ran. Sheila was fairly heavy in all that armor, really heavy, but Jack still outpaced the Covenant following them.

"_Jack, Sheila. You there_?" Li asked worriedly.

"Sheila's hit pretty bad. But I got her," Jack grunted.

"_Alright. Meet us here_," Li highlighted a nav point in Jack's HUD. "_We need to leave fast, the Covenant have about ten ships already. We need to evac_,"

"I know. We're on our way,"

Eventually, panting, he got to a waiting pelican.

"'Bout time!" Jorge said.

Jack carefully Sheila in a seat and strapped her in as the pelican took off. He sat down and caught his breath. Then he looked at his teammates.

Jorge was seared by so much plasma that he looked almost more black than green. He moved stiffly, gingerly. Li's arm hung at his side, with a deep gash-Jack suspected an energy sword. It didn't bleed much; it was cauterized.

Jack had taken quite a few plasma hits, though he didn't recognize some of them.

The pelican flew up to the damaged Commonwealth, landed in the shuttle bay that still had Covenant bodies laying around. Jack would've helped pick them up if he wasn't so tired, and didn't have more important stuff to do.

He helped carry Sheila to the Medical Bay, where they stripped off her armor, treated the severest of her burns, discovered three cracked ribs, and put her on IVs for fluids and pain medication. They'd operate further, later, but dozens of other people were hurt.

Jack stayed by her side, eventually falling asleep in the Med Bay.


	18. Chapter 18

AN: Yeah, I liked the action, too. More of that, very soon. Till then, some good thought stuff. Enjoy.

"How many people did we leave behind?" Jack's voice echoed in the barracks. With Sheila in the Medical Bay, it was just Jorge, Li and forty marines. No one answered.

"Goddammit, _how many people did we leave behind_?" Jack shouted. Everyone had their eyes averted as they cleaned their gear or got ready for bed. Jack felt ready to explode until Jorge got up and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Million and a half civilians," He whispered. "About a hundred thousand were evacuated. These guys don't want to think about it-show them a little kindness,"

"Bullshit," Jack muttered back. "We need to think about this… think about what we did wrong, so we can avoid it next time,"

Jorge flinched as Jack suggested this could happen again.

"Jack… We did everything we could. Hundreds of servicemen bit it on the surface. If we'd stayed, we'd have been burned like the rest,"

"We can't leave people behind," Jack furiously whispered. "We could have taken down a ship-breached its shields and gotten inside…,"

"Then no one could have slowed down the Covenant advance long enough to have gotten that many civilians away. There aren't enough Spartans. We had to make a choice-save the civilians or attack the fleet. We couldn't have done both… Sheila's still unconscious, and we're all fairly banged up as well,"

Jack saw plasma burns on Jorge's neck and temple, unbandaged.

"You alright?"

"Got some iodine on them. Not enough patches to go around, though. There are more seriously wounded," He shrugged, then sat down. They looked bad-a quarter sized charred black dot, surrounded by a baseball sized angry red blob. Jack realized that was just a wound through the armor. He wondered how many wounds like that he had, and how bad marines had it-they had their hard points armored, but had plenty of bare skin to cook. Jack shuddered at the thought.

"I'm gonna take a shower," He said, and walked away.

Jack had never been one for group showers-it weirded him out, just a little. Even in football back home, he'd just stink until he got back to the house. Luckily, there were plenty of curtains. By the front door there was a bunch of clean towels. Jack grabbed one, and got in. His shirt was off before he got halfway there, but he stopped as he saw a massive, over muscled dude in his peripheral vision.

He glanced over and saw a large square mirror over a sink. He blinked in surprise.

He was about a foot taller than he had been. Broader. Muscles were clearly defined and far too big. He had a fair amount of fat on him, but that was a good thing-fat was nothing but stored energy to be used at a later date. If he was in a situation where he didn't have access to a lot of food, it would keep him alive. The important part was that there wasn't nearly enough to slow him down in the least.

His face was covered in stubble. He had bags under his eyes, but none of this stuff bothered him.

He already looked… paler. He didn't like he was made of flesh. More like white, solid stone. Jack intimidated himself. Dotted around his chest and back were the same wounds he'd seen on Jorge's neck and head. Where the MJOLNIR armor plates had been thick, the black dots were all but gone, but on the parts with just the black bodysuit, the third-degree burns could be as big as a tennis ball.

Jack had been pushing the pain out of his mind, but it surged up as he stared. They itched and stung, rather like when he'd put his hand on the stovetop when he was a kid. Just more intensely. The disturbing part was that he couldn't feel the third-degree burns. They were completely numb. He gingerly put on a shirt and headed to the Medical Bay. He'd visit Sheila and get some of that iodine-he did not want any of those wounds to get infected.

* * *

Irou 'Hirantmee was a small Sangheili. He was barely seven feet tall. While his chest was broader than any humans, he still, humiliatingly, required specially designed armor. He was too small. Which meant that, almost automatically, he was looked down on in Sangheili culture.

His size conferred some advantages, however. He was lighter, faster, than his brothers. It allowed him to kill enough enemies of the Prophets to be given the rank of Major-something his mother and uncles had not expected.

It also, correctly or not, qualified him to be an Ossoona. He was stealthy, swift. Given an active camouflage module and some rations, he could operate in the assigned human ship, Commonwealth, for up to a week. Then he might have to resort to human food and drink.

Naturally, he hoped to finish his tasks before resorting to that.

He was to reconnoiter the ship, learn its design strengths and weaknesses assess its weapons and armor. Easy enough. The difficult part would be his secondary objective-to sneak onto the bridge, and steal the valuable, rumored AI core. These constructs were supposedly incredibly valued to the humans. They granted fleet coordination and tactical feats almost unheard-of in the Covenant. Irou knew that they held secrets valuable enough that the Covenant would praise his name for generations if he were to recover them-locations of every human world.

Who would dare mock his size, then? Irou would relish the looks from his friends and family. The task would earn him no honor, but it may have earned him renown and pride. This was a gloryless task, but the glory of combat could come later.

For now, though, it would be best to lure the humans into a false sense of security. So, instead of examining the armor, which would probably be swarming with workmen trying to repair the damage from the battle, or the weapons, which would almost definitely be securely guarded, Irou 'Hirantmee was at the large square room the humans were using to store their wounded. Perhaps he could assassinate the more valuable specimens.

He was confident that the humans who were careless enough to lose blood and honor in combat were also careless enough to miss him. He was, after all, just a slight distortion along the walls.

He flexed his mandibles in agitation as a large human entered the room-neck too short, mandibles fused together in a disgusting way, too many fingers, legs working wrong, face too flat. It had short brown fluff on its head and darker fluff on the lower part of its face. He was typical in many respects, but… this one was one of _them_.

Taller, bigger. Slightly paler. Slightly more… professional, smoother. Walking, disturbingly enough, less like an Unggoy, like the other humans, and more like a Sangheili. It was slightly unnerving-Sangheili pride demanded that he uncloak and challenge the human. Eliminate his fear by plowing through it. But he knew that he might not win. These humans were different-and if rumor was correct, extraordinarily dangerous.

Irou froze for a full ten seconds as it seemed to look directly at his hiding spot on the corner, before shrugging and walking to the bed of another human.

A female. Darker fluff, longer, straighter. More delicate, but an illusion. She was another one of _them_, and Irou had been trying to think of a way to kill her without compromising his position since he slipped in. Nothing creative yet.

The large human whispered something to the smaller female, and Irou could not hear. That was distressing-he had excellent hearing, better than most Sangheili, and Sangheili senses were sharper than any other. Irou 'Hirantmee suspected he was detected, and the humans were plotting. His upper left mandible twitched in confusion as the male pressed his lips to the female.

He touched them together in a shrug. Perhaps they were mated. It happened sometimes in mixed-gender units, especially among the Unggoy and Kig-Yar.

Irou planned to the hardest thing a born warrior could do: wait. And worse, wait amongst the enemy. When the humans were settled, calm, lazy, he would destroy them.

He chuckled silently as he considered his evacuation options. They would be nil, under normal circumstances. But he carried a primitive transponder-a clunky, unreliable first-generation device. As the war progressed, smaller versions could be produced. But Irou doubted the humans would last that long. Regardless, the softball shaped thing would suffice.

When the Commonwealth left slipspace, Irou would activate the beacon. At an observation deck, it would take a picture of the stars around. Then it would send a sliver of memory crystal containing the picture through slipspace to a designated listening post. And the Covenant would know where the Commonwealth was-the immediate and violent invasion would provide Irou cover to escape in one of the humans own escape pods. The timing would need to be perfect, but Irou had no doubt he could do it.

* * *

Jack was agitated. For one thing, the medics had insisted on bandages for two of his wounds. Second, thirty-two Commonwealth marines had died. Third, his armor was so badly damaged that it would take at least two weeks to fix. Last, he found out Jorge had lied.

Nearly three million civilians had died. Apparently New Trinity was quite a boom town-rich natural resources, good conditions, and over a hundred years in the UNSC's possession to attract colonists. It was an important, established colony, despite its distance from the inner colonies and Earth.

Three million. Jack couldn't figure it out. The number was too massive-he couldn't wrap his head around it. There just wasn't the hardware to crunch those kinds of numbers. Everyone on that planet had a family, friends, probably a mortgage. Kids. Nieces. Nephews. Cousins. Grandparents, uncles, aunts, dogs, cats-every single person was unique. Genetically, ideologically, every single person was a different mixed bag of thoughts, feelings, ideas. Three million.

Jack had to take his mind off of this, or it could chew him up. He didn't want to think of Sheila-it had been so painful to see her, in that hospital bed, so badly burned that half her face was swathed in bandages. It twisted in his gut, thinking that he hadn't been fast enough.

So he thought about that blur. That little blur in the corner-could it have been Covenant? Did they even have active camouflage this early in the war?

Why hadn't it attacked? Jack hadn't been carrying a weapon. It was basically at an alien bastard buffet of injured people. The only reason Jack hadn't attacked was because, well, it wasn't really a fair fight. Without his armor, he was roughly half as strong and fast as a healthy Elite. Without anything that could be called a weapon, the odds were pretty steep. Jack still amazed himself remembering how he'd killed two Elites, unarmed, without armor. Without any augmentations.

All of this was assuming that there actually was an Elite there, and not a symptom of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Maybe there had been a floater in his eye. Or an optical illusion. Maybe he was really and truly insane. Considering how the last couple months had gone, maybe that was the most likely answer.

How the hell did an Elite get aboard the ship? Jack found himself extremely paranoid-he didn't want to walk around unarmed, so he decided to carry one of his gigantic pistols in a hip holster. He didn't want the bastard to have access to Sheila, so after getting to the armory for the hand cannon, he practically ran towards the Medical Bay. He wasn't going to leave her alone.

He almost told someone that he'd seen an Elite, for an idiotic half second. He'd forgotten about his cover.

Had anyone seen a stealth Elite before? Did anyone even know what active camo meant? If he claimed to have seen a weird-looking blur, people would think he was insane. If the Elite was then caught, then he'd have some serious explaining to do. He'd be asked questions he couldn't answer-he might even bring ONI down on his head.

Goddammit!

He was stuck. He had no choice but to hover over Sheila with his gun's safety off. He couldn't assume he was mistaken-he also couldn't assume that the Elite was actually there, and tell people.

People could die if he didn't tell. An Elite, roaming freely around the ship?

Jack was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Self-preservation stopped him from telling, and intelligence stopped him from assuming he was just seeing things. Completely undecided, he made the default choice: tell no one. Be ready.


	19. Chapter 19

AN: This was gonna have a huge fight scene, but the chapter was just a lil too big. So the next one will be loaded with kickass. Enjoy.

"I wonder when we get a new AI?" Jack said. Sheila just shrugged. She was sitting up in the bed. Flash-cloned skin grafts had replaced the bandages on her face. Jack didn't like them-she had some freckles missing, and her face was now two-toned-but they were far better than charred black wounds.

"How're you feeling?" Jack furrowed his brow. He knew it was probably the fiftieth time he'd asked, but she never gave a decent answer. She shrugged again, and it got Jack's blood up. Did it hurt to talk? She wouldn't say.

The docs said she could leave in three or four days. It worried Jack that she hadn't tried to escape already-like every Spartan, she never took medical treatment for things that were minor, like dislocated shoulders or cracked ribs. Spartans were built to handle things much worse than pain.

But she hadn't pushed her way out. It freaked Jack out. How bad was she hurting?

Empathy mixed with guilt was a potent combination.

"What's with the gun?" She croaked.

"Huh?" He blinked.

She looked pointedly at the pistol in its holster.

"Just nervous," It was his turn to shrug. She frowned.

"What? It's comforting," It wasn't really a lie, in his mind.

"Bullshit-," She muttered. He silenced her with a kiss.

"Asshole," She murmured, but she was smiling.

"Yes, ma'am," Jack winked.

It was about a day after Jack had seen the curious blur, and he was relaxing. Nothing had happened. He decided to keep the pistol, though, and leaving Sheila wouldn't have been an option anyway.

"When do we leave slipspace?" Jack mused. Bliss wasn't far from New Trinity. It was one of the heavily garrisoned worlds that were too close to Harvest. Since the UNSC didn't have faster-than-light communication, the Commonwealth, and whatever other ships that got away, would be bringing the UNSC the first news of the fall of New Trinity.

"Couple minutes," Sheila breathed.

"Good,"

* * *

Good indeed. Irou had already toured the Commonwealth's wrecked armor, which had just been sealed off, suggesting that repairs would be done elsewhere. The weapons had indeed been well guarded, but the humans were on the prowl for visible assailants. He'd slipped in fine.

The weapons had been very interesting. Very primitive. Reminiscent of old Jiralhanae technology, but completely unlike it at the same time. It had cleaner lines, it was more angular. Most Covenant thought the human's stone tools were ugly and inefficient, but Irou privately thought they held a rough, functional beauty, rather like the curving guard of an energy blade or the blossomed armor plates of a Wraith's armed gun carriage. Of course, he'd never admit to such a thing, and would deny it if asked. He'd recorded everything he'd seen, minus his grudging admiration for the ship.

The human vessels were less technological than the Covenant ships, but almost made up for it with obscenely good engineering. The fusion reactor didn't need to be more powerful-it was three times the size of its Covenant counterparts. And the MAC Cannon drew more power per shot that it took to launch three plasma torpedoes. And it did more damage per shot-if the Covenant didn't have shielding-or the humans did-then the tides would almost definitely turn. The humans knew they didn't have the higher tech-so they made their tech bigger and better. With the exception of AIs-in that field, humans dominated. The Prophets would never admit it, but Irou suspected that was another reason for his primary objective.

It was disheartening news, to hear that the ship didn't possess an AI. But Irou was happy to find that the coordinates were downloadable from a command-level terminal.

The facts were shocking. There were hundreds of colonies-the home planet was in the middle of an empire that rivaled that of the Covenant. The war to follow would be long and costly-Irou was not sure whether his gift would be as easily received. He moved sluggishly, uncertainly. He held the decimation of a race in his pocket.

The humans had merit. Value. The fact that any constructs of such low technological sophistication could meet the Covenant fleets and do any damage proved this-they were fighting tanks with rocks, and doing so too impressively to be as feeble as the Prophet's dictated.

Irou flexed his mandibles and claws in indecision. It was a great time to be a believer, and a sorry time for blasphemers. He did not doubt his place in the Great Journey-but he questioned the right of the Prophets to exterminate the humans. It might have been unfashionable to say so, but Irou almost respected the humans. Perhaps they could be eventually offered a spot in the Covenant.

The Ossoona shook his head to dislodge such radical thoughts. Then he slipped out of the door of the Medical Bay and crept along, freezing when someone walked by him. His task was complete-the armor specifications, weapons intelligence, and most importantly, the navigational data, were all secure. He went to a local terminal and, making sure there no observers seeing a computer operate itself, accessed a starboard camera. In slipspace, the only thing visible was blackness. But stars were clearly there-the ship had transitioned to normal space.

Bliss had a total of six ships in orbit, plus the Commonwealth and Eudaimonia, running from New Trinity. Bliss itself was a smallish colony world, blue and swirling white. Two point six million souls. Irou knew that he was condemning them to death as he set a timer on the beacon and dropped it into an airlock, and as he sealed the door and ejected the device into the space around Bliss, his former exultation had melted into something approaching depression.

He said a quick prayer, ate his rations. Then he went over to the escape pods and waited.

Death was coming to Bliss, coming fast, and he would need to be swift to avoid it.

* * *

"Why are you grinning like that?" Sheila murmured warily as Jack walked in with a large case.

"I don't know," Jack said. "I'm just pumped for the next fight with the Covenant. Turns out Naval Special Warfare gave us a bucketload of goodies that Sam just dug out of the hold,"

Sheila sat up, interested. Jack's grin grew-he knew it was a good sign.

"Take a look at this stuff," He cracked the case on the desk. It had black foam cut-outs with two guns, two chrome bullets, and one orange shotgun shell. Jack pulled out a bulky rifle.

"This is the MA5A, prototype assault rifle. Fifteen rounds a second-they usually come in 7.62 millimeter, but we got ten of them in 11.56. Plenty of firepower for the discriminating Spartan,"

"This right here is the M7 submachine gun. All the firepower of the M5s, half the bulk. I think we could go one per hand easily enough. But the real magic is in these rounds," Jack held up the first, an 11.56 bullet, all silver.

"Depleted uranium core covered with a feathered tungsten wrap designed to mushroom like a slug. Helluva punch, heavy enough to crack Elite shielding quick, I think, with each round punching a three-inch hole. Might not break through the really hard armor, but it'll knock 'em on their ass," He chuckled as he pulled out the smaller bullet.

"We also have these-shredder rounds. Perforated hollow jacket splinters on impact, cutting individual paths into the bad guy's guts. Fairly old-school, but they'll make hamburger from Grunts and Jackals. But right here," He pulled out the shotgun shell, "Is my favorite," He pulled a small steel canister from the tip. As he pulled it, four curved fins popped out from the end.

"Fin-stabilized, armor-piercing. A small but powerful C-12 shaped charge explodes on a proximity fuse, sending a jet of molten steel in a stream, like how a rocket smashes through a tank's armor. I'd guess two shots to kill an Elite. And they can be shot from any ten-gauge shotgun, with twice the effective range of buckshot,"

"Nice," Sheila raised both eyebrows. "So… how many…,"

"Hundred twenty shells. These things are expensive," Jack shrugged.

"That's not nearly enough," Sheila said. "We need-"

Klaxons sounded.

"_This is the Captain. Battle stations. Spartans to the bridge_," Wallace's voice blared. Jack jumped up and took out his pistol, but frowned and hesitated.

"Go," Sheila said. "I'll be here when you get back,"

He smiled apologetically, mimed tipping an imaginary hat, and ran out.

He headed to the Armory. His armor was being patched up, like all of Gold Team's. There was one spare suit, but the only person who'd fit in it, who wasn't hospitalized, was Li. It would take time for Li to suit up, but Jorge and Jack could throw on their old ODST BDUs in five minutes. The simpler armor suits were designed for speed. If Jack had to guess, Li was getting equipped in the Spartan section by a half-dozen techs.

Jack ran into Jorge, who already had the ODST leggings on.

"Anyone know what's going on?" Jack grabbed his suit from a rack.

"No idea. Hazard a guess?" Jorge put on the chest section.

"How the hell did they find Bliss so _fast_?" Jack sped up.

"Maybe they got a tracker on us," Jorge shrugged. Jack froze for a millisecond. Was the blur connected to this?

"What're the odds?" Jack asked.

"Not too bad, so far. Rumor is that the Covies only brought an advance fleet, like last time. Two, maybe three ships,"

Jack knew that the fate of the entire colony depended on whether the Covenant had brought two or three ships. Two could be managed, with heavy losses, but three would more than likely break through. A hundred thousand survivors was a hell of a lot better than none.

"How do you think we'll deployed?" Jack asked.

"If they get dropships off, it'll be a ground game. If not, I expect we'll take the fight to them," If the Covenant got dropships away, the UNSC could do virtually nothing about them but to send their own ground forces-the capital ships would be hard-pressed to survive.

"_Spartans. Report to the bridge_," Wallace said over the intercom. Jack finished locking in a vacuum seal attaching the long sleeve and glove, and he and Jorge ran towards the bridge. Li had beat them there-carrying a handful of MJOLNIR components that he attached as the Captain talked.

"They sent troop transports from a distance, tried to protect them from the far side of one of Bliss's moons. Didn't work. We killed them, and now the Covenant ships are attacking the fleet. Two ships are gone, two more will be if you don't hurry. When we knock the shields down on one, you'll board and blow it up. We have three FURY tactical nukes, you'll use them, get out, and we'll start on the next one. Any questions?" Wallace bolted out the plan fast.

"Sir, how many ships are there?" Jack asked respectfully.

"We got one. There are three left,"

Jack inhaled and blinked. Not great news.

"The survival of every single civilian depends on you three, working in concert with Blue Team from the Alaska. Do you understand me?" Wallace shouted.

"Sir, yes sir!" Gold Team yelled.

"Good. Get moving," Without another word, Wallace turned back to the tactical display. Jack, Jorge, and Li sprinted towards the shuttle bay, which, amazingly, still had the alien blood on the deck. That brawl had seemed like ages ago.

They went to the first pelican they saw.

"We're commandeering this ship," Jorge growled at the tiny noncom pilot, who hastily saluted and ran away.

"Jorge, grab the nukes. Li, get ready to fly. We'll need to time these breaches carefully," Jack ordered, and for some reason, his friends listened. He ran off and got some shaped charges-they were going for speed, not precision. It wasn't likely that they would fly in nice and neat into an open hangar-they'd probably need to make their own door. Jack also took a double handful of vacuum seals and medical packs-this was not going to be a pretty op.

Luckily, the Armory was pretty close by. Jack double-timed it there and grabbed three automatic shotguns, as well as his custom snipers. A bag of grenades and a hefty sack of ammunition and he got back to the pelican.

"_We'll do this in a series of flybys_," Wallace said over the team radio channel, from the bridge.

"_When you get out, you'll be flying way too fast to just hit the enemy ships and survive. When you exit the Commonwealth a couple hundred meters away from the targets, reverse thrust. High-energy burn-or you'll just explode on their armor. Get it_?"

"Yes, sir," Li said. There wasn't any hostility-there were bigger things to worry about.

"_Good_," The Commonwealth bucked as she used the emergency thrusters, probably to dodge a plasma torpedo for a short time. "_Blue Team will be executing the same maneuver at the same time, on a different ship. We do this right, you'll be saving a lot of lives, Gold_,"

"Hey, no pressure," Jack muttered under his breath.

"We're ready, sir," Jorge said, sounding absolutely rock-solid.

"_Good to hear it. The first target is coming in twenty seconds. Launch on my mark_," The Commonwealth jerked to the right, as she dodged another shot. Jack wondered how the first shot hadn't arced around and hit. Wallace was a pretty damn good flier. The ship shuddered as a MAC round fired.

Jack threw everything into the back and Jorge jumped in, closing the hatch behind him. The bay outside depressurized.

"_Three_," The bay doors started to open. Li fired up the thrusters on the pelican.

"Vacuum protocols?" Jack asked. He checked his own suit.

"_Two_," Jack strapped into one of the seats. So did Jorge.

"Green," Li and Jorge said. Jack pressed a button and the interior of the pelican depressurized.

"_One_. _Mark_!" Li gunned the pelican out, knocking them back in their seats. The dropship lurched out, and Li spun it around with maneuvering thrusters. They were now parallel to the Commonwealth, their tail pointing to the front of the ship. Li fired the forward thrusters at one hundred thirty percent-the Commonwealth seemed to fly right past them, shockingly fast.

Jack knew it was an illusion-the pelican had been moving at the Commonwealth's exact speed. The frigate hadn't suddenly accelerated; the pelican was just dramatically slowing down. But was it slowing down fast enough?

"Li?" Jack asked.

"One second…," He worked the controls-the pelican's thrusters fired harder, knocking the wind out of Jack.

"Brace yourselves. Impact in three, two, one-" The force of the impact was indescribably. Jack's vision went black for a second. When it came back, for a moment, Jack didn't remember what he was doing. It came rushing back, and he grabbed one of the heavy shaped charges. The Monroe Effect had been used for centuries to penetrate thick armor, and the cone-shaped charge in Jack's hands was the size of a basketball, made of the most explosive material in the UNSC. Li triggered the magnetic locks, sticking the pelican to the hull.

Jack opened the back hatch, and drifted through space. The massive Covenant ship below him was blue-gray. He armed the explosive and stuck it to the hull, careful so the pelican would be safe from splash damage. Then he got back inside the pelican and pressed the button on the detonator. Inside, there was barely a vibration.

"Li, you're in first, then me, then Jorge. We'll secure the area. Jorge, plant the nuke in the floorboards, in the overhead compartment, just somewhere they won't think to look. Give us one minute to evac," Jack opened the hatch and they climbed out. He'd worried that the hole wouldn't be big enough, but Li slipped in easily enough. Jack then jumped in-the holed hull had let the atmosphere out, and vacuum had killed the two Jackals inside. It was messy. He was surprised by the gut pull that came from the ship's artificial gravity.

Jack snatched up two shield gauntlets.

"Why, why don't we use these?" He asked.

"Covenant might be able to track them," Jorge grunted as armed the nuke. "Li, could you peel back some of that alloy on the floor?" Without MJOLNIR, Jorge wasn't strong enough.

"Well, they already know where we are. Let's take them," Jack handed a gauntlet to Jorge, who clipped it to his wrist.

Li punched his hands through the floor, slowly ripping the tough metal deck apart. After a few seconds, he had a big enough hole to stuff the bomb in. Jorge stuck it in, and Li painfully covered it back up. It would be stupid to try to hide the hole, but there was no the Covenant could get it out and disarm it in the time left.

"Fifty-five seconds," Jorge said.

"Let's move," Jack jumped up through the hole, careful to get a hold on the edge, so he wouldn't just fly off into space. Stilll scared the crap out of him, though.

"Holy shit… next time, we get thruster packs," Jorge jumped up, and then Li. They got into the pelican and Li worked the controls.

"Thirty seconds," Jorge reminded.

"Calm down. I've got this," Li said calmly. The pelican's engines ignited, the magnetical clamps let go, and the Spartans rocketed away.

"Faster," Jack said, though he could barely draw in breath. "We're still inside the EMP radius."

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Li said.

Behind them, the Covenant ship bloomed red-orange under silver-blue shields in a surprisingly beautiful fireworks display, as the shielding held the explosive force in, crushing and roasting everything inside. The Electro Magnetic Pulse, however, shot out.

"Lost control," Li said. "All systems are down,"

"Shit!" Jack exclaimed. They had air onboard, and if that ran out, they had oxygen in their suits, but there was one problem. "Let's hope the good guys find us before the Covenant do,"


	20. Chapter 20

AN: Angel, I know, this chapter isn't big enough to rate brownies. =) I'm putting it up anyway, because one, I think the little boost in quality more than makes up for the average word count, and two, because I was curious about what you guys, the almighty reviewers whom I am in infinite debt to, would think about a new project of mine. Obviously, it would be on ice until Into the Fire is finished, but still, the idea is compelling, to me. A Star Wars fic-a Sith man and a Jedi woman, in love, fighting through the Clone Wars and eventually signing up in the Rebel Alliance. Think I could pull it off? The emotions I would be trying to portray in the seemingly doomed couple is best expressed in that Stone Sour song, 'Say You'll Haunt Me.' Listen to that, see if it sounds like a good proposal, let me know.

There was another impact, except they weren't buckled up. Jack and Jorge flew across the crew compartment, leaving deep dents.

"Son of a bitch!" Jack shouted. Pain that turned his vision gray shot through his shoulder.

"The hell was that?" He shouted.

"Crew compartment breached, several motion tracker contacts… we've been boarded!" Li shouted.

"_What_?" Jack yelled incredulously, as the door to the cockpit dented inward. Why the hell would Covenant board something as tiny as a pelican? Why not just blow it up?

There was a gong sound as another, bigger dent smashed into the door. Jack heard a low growl.

The crew compartment had been pressurized. The fact that the sound of a growl could be heard meant that it still was-so the boarders weren't just hacking their way in. They were pros.

Jack snatched up his shotgun, safety off. Li and Jorge did the same. The cramped cockpit was a perfect place to die-one grenade in there, and they were all dead. They'd need to be the aggressors, here. Jack held up three fingers and stepped to the side.

"Me first. You guys follow," Jack whispered. They nodded.

The door crashed across the room, smashing into the control console. Jack turned the corner, and found himself face-to-face with a mountain of pissed-off meat.

Jack had played Halo 2, 3, and Reach several times. He was a complete campaign junkie. But the half-naked unholy spawn of a grizzly bear and a gorilla standing in front of him surprised the hell out of him. It was so goddamn _ugly_. The Brute filled up the doorway between the cockpit and compartment.

Jack gave himself a twentieth of a second to shove down his shock and push forward. His left fist shot out and punched the ugly mutant rhino on the chin, just to stun it, while he drove the muzzle of the shotgun into it's gut, pumping exploding round and exploding round into it. It was stunned and basically disemboweled as jack shoved it forward and bodily threw it to the other side, where he could see a sealed Covenant syringe that had cut into the floor hull of the small ship and let in the Brutes. Yeah, Brutes, as in plural. There were three more in the crew compartment. All of them had very little armor-none of them had any vacuum gear. Could they honestly be that stupid?

Jack kept going forward, giving Li and Jorge to flank. As the second Brute raised a spiker, Jack's reflexes slowed down. Adrenaline pumped into his system, and he ducked under a line of red spikes. Two steps forward brought him to the Brute's face. It was stronger than him, almost faster, but _not_ smarter. Jack feigned left, and the Brute twitched to guard, and Jack, in a smooth motion, drew his combat knife and sunk it to the haft in the Brute's neck, on the right side.

Li had resorted to his favorite method of violence. Dodging under clumsy blows, he easily disassembled the Brute with his hands, elbows, knees, and feet. He was a blur of green motion as he reduced the giant to a puddle of broken bones and bleeding bruises in less than four seconds.

Jorge, however, had taken possibly the most economical approach. Stepping around the four spikes that would have drove into his chest and arm, he took a big step forward, stuck the barrel of his shotgun under the Brute's chin, and blew off its head.

Jack exhaled. Then a bloodthirsty roar shook the pelican. Out of the glowing red edged hole in the floor, a massive Brute leapt. It was easily two feet taller than the others, and if the ridiculously big hammer in its hands said anything, it was a far superior warrior.

Jack laughed. It was only wearing partial armor.

It bellowed a challenge and brandished the hammer. Jack pointed his shotgun at the floor and shot it.

The armor-piercing explosive round punched a two inch hole. The air started to rush out immediately, and the Brute gave a gurgling gasp. Jack frowned. He didn't want to watch this thing die slowly, no matter how ugly it was. So he shot two more holes in the floor, and the Brute collapsed with its mouth and eyes bleeding much faster.

"Dumbass," Jack muttered at the pile of dead monkey. If his helmet hadn't been on, he was sure it would have stunk.

"Li?" He said. "Get the radio working. Fast. We need to radio for evac,"

"Yes, sir," Li said automatically and went back to the cockpit.

"Jorge, clear the hole. If there are any more Covenant in there, kill them or grab them,"

"Sir," Jorge nodded and jumped in.

Jack stood still for a second. Did his friends just call him 'sir'? He blinked and shook his head.

"Jack, I've got something on E-Band," Li said, and Jack rushed up, relieved.

"Play it," He said, and Li pressed a button. The sound was course and filled with static.

_"…NSC Commonwealth. We've…. boarded by Cov… massing near the Medica… request immed…. stance_,"

Jack's breath caught in his chest.

_Sheila_.

* * *

Irou 'Hirantmee had not left in an escape pod, as he'd hoped to do. A pass code had been required-admirable, something else not expected. The shipmaster of this vessel did not allow cowardice, it seemed. Irou had tried to hack into the system, but time was running out. So he'd done something less time-consuming. He had hacked into the communications systems of the ship and broadcast a message to the Covenant ships now burning their way to the planet. The message was clear-he was in possession of valuable intelligence and needed to be evacuated.

He had not mentioned the navigational data. He was still meditating on that.

Two ships had headed to the rescue-Irou had watched from a camera in horror as one seemed to detonate from the inside. The second rushed on, and boarders had successfully landed.

Irou went in the direction of the human marines, knowing they would lead them to his fellows. He was follow behind a squad of six of the short warriors, surprised to find them leading him toward the Medical Bay. As the humans entered a room, Irou saw a gold-armored Zealot ambush them from the side, cutting down two of them. Two Sangheili Majors attacked from the other side. Irou did not want to act, but to do otherwise would be tantamount to cowardice, would be seen as such. Irou grabbed a human by the back of the neck and snapped it, and before the survivors could blink he stabbed another through the back of the head with his energy dagger.

The last human bellowed and primed a grenade-one of the few dangerous human weapons. The Zealot laughed throatily, spun and kicked it out of the marine's hand. It flew thirty feet before exploding harmlessly.

Despite her mangled left hand, the human tried to raise an assault rifle-one of the Majors grabbed it and threw it aside.

The Zealot chuckled and stepped forward, looming over the female, whose hand darted for a pistol. Irou grabbed it first, and silently tossed it away.

The Zealot grabbed the human by the throat and lifted it. A primitive metal knife appeared in her hand-skated harmlessly off of the Zealot's energy shielding. The Zealot raised his sword… showed it to the marine. Then he slowly, deliberately sunk it to its handle in her chest. His black eyes stared into hers, his mandibles vibrating with rage.

He dropped the corpse with disgust.

"They are no warriors," He spat as he looked up at Irou. "'Hirantmee. Greetings, Ossoona. I am Inta 'Wuinvai, Shipmaster of the Furious Redemption. You claimed to have valuable knowledge," He was slightly courteous, but Irou heard an amount of arrogance.

"I do, Shipmaster. Perhaps we should return to the ship, so I can show you properly. I tire of the stink of these creatures," Actually, the humans smelled almost too clean, compared to some of the other races. But Irou wanted to bury his respect for them, bury it with his guilt.

"Ah, spy, we can return whenever I desire. But for now, my blade demands blood. Let us continue into the ship-the smell will be tolerated, for now," 'Wuinvai was a swordsman-one of the elite in Sangheili society. He had now sheathed his sword, and would not, not yet. Irou did not want any part in the further suffering. But he had no choice.

"Very well, Excellency. I know this ship well. Where shall I direct you?" The Medical Bay was less than fifty paces away-Irou could never forgive himself if he let his comrades kill the defenseless and wounded.

"I require no direction. Follow me," The Zealot roared with exuberance and ran down the steel halls, the other three Sangheili following, right to the Medical Bay.

* * *

"We have to get back!" Jack hollered.

"We're at six percent systems operational. We can't go anywhere," Li said hopelessly.

"Bullshit! What about the Covie boarding craft? We can take that!" Jack said.

"How would we even run it?" Jorge sighed.

"I'm taking a look at the controls," Jack ran down out of the cockpit through the crew compartment-seeing Jorge's prisoner for the first time. A tied up and gagged Grunt. Jack didn't recognize him, but as soon as it saw Jack, it flailed around and sat up, groaning against the gag.

Jack kept running and got down to the organic-looking Covenant boarder. It looked kind of like a Phantom, but more thoroughly designed for space. He went down to the alien cockpit.

He didn't understand any of it. There was control yoke, and two panels of buttons and gauges. All over, on everything, were glyphs and symbols. Jack didn't understand any of them-he wouldn't know where to start.

His hands started to shake and he started to fully despair. The center of his universe, the reason for his existence, was incapacitated, with the enemy closing around her…

"God_dammit_!" Jack screamed and punched a three-inch dent into the side of the craft.

Then, a little light in the darkness. He thought of that prisoner, the Grunt. He ran up and over to the Grunt, ripping off the gag.

"Can you understand me, you piece of shit?" He asked, frenzied. The Grunt pointed at himself.

"Kitik!" It gurgled. He pointed at the Spartan. "Jack!"

Jack blinked. Honestly, what the hell were the odds? How freakin' unlikely was this? Then Jack remembered what he was there for.

"Can you fly?" He asked desperately. Kitik gurgled and cocked his head. Then he hooted and bounced, looking at his hands. Jack untied them. Kitik pointed at the dead Brute leader.

Jack raised an eyebrow. But the little guy wasn't really a threat. Jack untied his legs.

The Grunt went on all fours and shuffled to the corpse of its boss. Kitik punched it once in the gut, grunted something in his language. Then he went to the Brute's head, and took something from its neck. He clipped the device to his neck.

"Kitik… thank you," Kitik said.

"Er… ok," Jack said. "Can you pilot the ship below us?"

"Um. No. Can help, though,"

"Good. Come on-we need to get moving,"

* * *

"And here, brothers, lie the most unholy. Those who had no honor-but still managed to lose it. The cowards who were afraid to die, too afraid to earn the only glory they would have ever known," 'Wuinvai paced the beds of the Medical Bay. Most of the humans there were conscious; they were frozen in fear as the Shipmaster's words were translated into English.

"The dregs of the bloodless. The weakest of the heretics," Inta 'Wuinvai brandished his sword. "Well, brothers, what shall we do? Will we be so cruel as to deny them the scraps of honor? Are we so petty as to refuse them a good death?" The Majors roared a negative. The humans remained frozen. Irou saw the black-haired female-one of them. One of the true warriors in the human forces. She wasn't like the others. She wasn't scared or terrified. She wasn't closing her eyes and wishing it all away.

She was angry. She looked like she wanted to kill them all, personally. If she hadn't been severely wounded, Irou had the chilling feeling she would have little difficulty with it.

"No," Irou shook his head. Inta's head snapped up.

"What was that, spy?" The arrogance Irou heard in that voice only reinforced his convictions.

"Everything I have seen in this ship during my time contradicts your statements. These humans have some honor-some of them have strong blood," Irou narrowed his eyes as the Majors growled and 'Wuinvai pointed his sword at him.

"Hold your tongue-you verge on heresy," The Zealot declared.

"I verge on bravery," Irou took the navigational data chip from his pocket, crushing it between his fingers. Then he drew his plasma rifle.

"I will not allow you to harm the defenseless,"

"Then you will die with them!" 'Wuinvai, wickedly fast, whipped his sword around, and Irou barely had time to back away from the blade-under his armor, he felt blisters form from the heat. Irou roared and leapt backwards, one of the most basic maneuvers taught to all Sangheili since childhood, rolled back to his feet easily. In less than a second, Irou was back up, firing his plasma rifle at the enraged Sangheili that stood easily two feet taller than him.

Irou threw a plasma grenade-stuck to a Major's helmet-which exploded, draining the shields of the other two. Irou kept firing-his life depended on whether or not the stream of blue fire could down the massive warrior advancing before he got within sword range.

'Wuinvai was a far superior warrior. Much faster and stronger, with decades more experience in killing. If he got within sword range, Irou knew he was dead. He stepped backwards until he backed into the wall-the plasma rifle overheated, and still, the bloodthirsty Zealot sprinted at him. Irou relaxed him mandibles as 'Wuinvai got too close-raised the sword high-and with a sound like thunder, the Zealot's head exploded.

Irou looked over and saw a massive human. The armor was wrong, but the helmet was off, so he could see that it was the brown-haired Spartan from before.

Irou's rifle was overheating. He was not stealthed. Another bullet-Irou flinched-and the other Major's head exploded into red and pink mush.

Irou raised both hands in the universal gesture of surrender. He was astonished as an Unggoy stepped around the corner, completely calm at the human's side.

"I surrender," Irou said. He had no chance-to be wounded or killed in a one-sided fight would earn him no honor. He blinked as he recalled what he had just done.

Had he challenged three superiors to a fight? Over _humans_?

Jack aimed his shotgun right at the Elite's left eye, finger on the trigger, more than ready to kill it.


	21. Chapter 21

"On your knees!" Jack shouted, stepping around Irou in a slow circle. The Elite was a potential threat, but not his real concern. Burned into his mind like a brand was Sheila's face. Was she ok?

"No," Irou kept his hands up, but made no other motion as the human circled him.

"That wasn't a fuckin' request! _Get down_, _now_!" Jack didn't dare look away from Irou. Elites were wicked fast, and this one wasn't disarmed.

"I have honor, fellow warrior. I swear, by the Journey, that I will not fight or flee," The tone was calm and unafraid. "I am your prisoner, but I am not your slave,"

Jack was getting more impatient and fearful for Sheila by the second.

"Fine, throw your weapons on the ground, by my feet. Slowly," Jack was prepared to jump. That son of a bitch could prime a plasma grenade and stick it to Jack's crotch in half the time it would've taken to blink.

Irou threw his plasma rifle first, then his pistol. With his remaining grenade he took extra care-no reason to upset this agitated alien fighter more than he already was.

"There is a melee weapon in the left wrist of my armor. I cannot remove it without detaching the armor component," Irou said calmly.

"How long would that take?" Jack kicked the weapons behind him and kept circling to Sheila.

"Several minutes,"

"Better start," Jack said as Jorge and Li ran into the room, the bigger Spartan with a screaming Grunt slung over his shoulder.

"Wow!" Li said as they raised their weapons at the Elite.

"Don't worry. He's mine. And be… I don't know, kinder to Kitik. He's more of a guest than a prisoner," Jack said.

Jorge shrugged and threw the Grunt to the ground.

"Tie this bastard up. And don't be gentle," Jack gestured to Irou.

"How is she?" Jorge asked.

"You read my mind," Jack lowered his weapon and walked to Sheila as the other two began securing the Elite.

He broke out in a big grin as he saw her, looking exactly as she had when he'd left.

"Holy shit," Jack breathed as he grabbed her hands and kissed her forehead. "You scared the shit out of me, sweetheart,"

"Missed you, too," She smiled. "Be nice to the big guy, though. Unless his speech was a dramatic masterpiece designed to confuse the crap out of us, I'd say he was trying to save us," She looked to the other wounded, who murmured and nodded.

"Goldie was scary, talking about killing us. But Blue boy was trying to talk him down, I think," A marine with bandaged stump for a left arm said.

Jack frowned. Kitik was one thing-if Jack had read the little dude right, he'd been treated like shit by the Covenant. But an Elite? One of the warrior, officer class?

"Just because he didn't want them to kill you, doesn't mean he's a good guy," Jack reminded them. "He probably thought there wouldn't be any sport in it,"

"Be nice to him," A wounded woman, a civilian, said gently. "Not too nice, but be respectful,"

These guys obviously weren't buying it.

"He's a goddamn mass murderer!" Jack said incredulously. "I wonder what his kill count is? How many humans have you gutted, Elite?"

"My name is Irou 'Hirantmee, warrior," The Elite said calmly from across the room. He was so tied up that he couldn't move anything but his head. Li had to heft him like a massive sack of potatoes.

"May I speak in my own defense?"

"Sure. Let's get you all lawyered up, too," Jack said unbelievingly, shocked but still somehow sarcastic. Irou didn't get the joke, as there was no Sangheili translation for lawyer.

Li set him down on a metal chair. Jorge tied his arms and legs to the chair, even though they were already tied to each other and his chest.

"My kill-count is thirty-two, six of which have been humans. In my culture, every warrior earns his rank by tallying his kills," Irou didn't understand the unanimous expressions of shock among the humans. "I have gutted two of those kills, and none of them were human. One was Jiralhanae, and the other was Kig-Yar," His upper mandibles twitched in confusion as every human looked horrified.

"My options in combat were limited for those occasions. I do not understand your expressions. Please explain them," Irou looked each human in the face, confused.

"You don't see how counting the number of your kills and how you killed them is sadistic?" Li whispered.

"No," Irou's upper mandibles continued to twitch. "Valor in battle is determined by your kills,"

It seemed obvious, common sense, to the Elite.

"In Elite culture, sure, but not here," Jack shook his head, trigger finger itching. "Humans don't reward barbarianism or savagery. What humans value is saving lives, not ending them,"

Irou blinked. He'd been raised to be a warrior, to kill for his honor, his family's honor, since he was a child. To think of fighting _for_ others, instead of _against_ others, was more than he could comprehend.

"Strange. But I think I see how your way could lead to honor," Irou cocked his head. "What is your kill count?" He looked at the Spartans. Jack chuckled.

"Well, lemme think...,"

There were his first two Elites, so long ago. His first human kill, Orlav. A dozen or so taking Roosevelt. Two or three dozen on New Trinity… the Brute, a few minutes ago… and that Zealot.

"Between forty-five and sixty. I don't keep score. Guys?," Jack shrugged, and the Elite's mandibles gaped.

"About the same, minus ten or so," Jorge said nonchalantly.

"Seventy, eighty," Li shrugged.

"I am not young. My kills have been amassed over a decade. How long have you been fighting?" Irou said.

The Spartans exchanged glances.

"I don't know, maybe a couple months? Little more than that?" Jack said.

"Then I should be more humble," Irou lowered his head and blinked rapidly. "By the standards of my race, you are great warriors indeed,"

"Er… cool," Jorge said, and Li laughed.

"Untie the Grunt," Jack said. Li cut the restraints.

"You don't think he's a threat?" Jorge asked.

"Not to us," Jack said. "How are you, Kitik?"

The Grunt punched Jorge on the leg. He might as well have hit a brick wall.

"Ow," Kitik said as he looked at Jack. "I am good, excellency,"

"What?" Jack laughed.

"'Excellency'. It is what the lower classes call Sangheili," Irou explained. From the books, Jack knew this, but still. It was different being called it.

"What are Sangheili?" Sheila asked.

"I am a Sangheili. Your people call us Elites," Irou said respectfully.

"Why do you call them lower class?" Jack jerked his head at Kitik.

"Because that is what they are. They are inferior, much as human marines are inferior to you,"

Jack frowned. "That's another little cultural weird point. Why are they 'inferior'?"

Irou cocked his head. "They are limited fighters. They are culturally… less. I do not understand your question,"

"Sure, I can hit harder than a marine, but that doesn't make me better than them," Jack said.

"That's debatable," One marine muttered under his breath, but the great hearing of every Spartan and the Elite heard it.

"Don't say that," Jack barked at him. "We're great at fighting, but outside that arena, we're just regular people. Don't put us on a pedestal or shit like that," He turned back to Irou.

"If Grunts are so damn inferior, why do you Elites send them into a fight first?"

"To help them gain honor that they do not have," Irou shrugged. "It is a gift rarely thankfully received, but it is given nonetheless,"

"See, that's the core of the problem, right there," Jack pointed at the Sangheili. "You can't apply your cultural norms to other cultures. Do Grunts enjoy fighting, Kitik?"

"No," Kitik shook his head emphatically and forcefully.

"Do you think that fighting earns you honor?"

"No. Fighting earns graves," Kitik sighed.

"There you go. Elite, you can't think the rules of your society apply to everyone-each culture is different,"

Jack saw a disturbance in the corner of his eye. He whipped up his gun-he would never think his eyes were playing tricks on him again, not after that blur. Once his gun was up, he really wished it wasn't, because it was pointed at Captain Wallace. Who looked very pissed off.

"Gold Team, come with me," He said.

Jack almost objected, but handed his shotgun to Sheila. She was bedridden, but could shoot fastest and most accurately if the Elite got loose. Jorge and Li passed theirs to marines, but held on to their sidearms.

They got up and walked out of the room.

Right as the door shut, Wallace started talking.

"Who was in charge while Gold Leader was out?" He asked.

Jack shrugged, but Li and Jorge nodded at him.

"Then tell me, Spartan-035, why you abandoned the mission halfway through," Wallace asked calmly. "It must have been a good reason, to stop your efforts to save Bliss and all her millions,"

Jack froze up. The Captain sighed and waved at two marine MPs.

"We lost the _Poseidon_, a destroyer. Hundreds of servicemen dead, as well as an irreplaceable military asset in this war, because you wanted to save your girlfriend,"

"Worse, you left the survival of Bliss, millions of civilians, to chance. For dereliction of duty, you are hereby placed under military arrest. Your court-martial will take place at Reach, in front of a board of your superiors,"

The MPs walked up to Jack tried to handcuff him. It would have been laughable if he wasn't so stunned. He shook them off easily.

"What about my team?" Jack asked, horrified.

"Blue Team took out two of the enemy ships. They saved the planet-they are heroes. Your team was following your orders. They will stay here, on the front, fighting the Covenant. You will not. If the court-martial goes the way I think it will, you'll be light-years away from Gold Leader within a month,"

"Why are you so hell-bent to get me away from Sheila?" Jack asked. Wallace grimaced.

"Because of this. Things like this. Personal relationships rearrange peoples priorities-instead of fighting for millions of civilians, you fought for one woman. Do you see how dangerous that is?" Wallace glared at Jack, who could only look away.

"Caring that much for one person is reckless. What if she's killed? Hey, look at me, kid," Jack felt like he was getting a lecture from a teacher. Except this was so much worse. Oh, god, the _Poseidon_. How many hundreds were killed? Because he ran off like a goddamned idiot after his girlfriend? He wouldn't allow himself to think of the second point Wallace brought up-Sheila was indestructible. She couldn't die. He wouldn't allow it.

"You Spartans are a great asset in this war. But you have to see that your little romance is endangering everyone," Wallace nodded to the MPs, who again tried to shackle Jack, but Jack easily pushed them away.

"What about my prisoners? I just nabbed us a friggin' _fountain_ of intel. I wouldn't have gotten either of them if I hadn't come back," Jack was reaching, and Wallace knew it.

"And what about Dr. Halsey's protocol? What if I say that I need to be with Sheila to work my best?" Jack had pulled something workable out of his ass, and Wallace grimaced. His remaining hand rubbed his solar plexus.

"Sheila is more important to me than you know. If we got separated, then we'd both suck in the field. We'd be depressed and incompetent. In fact, the only way I can think of to stave off these separation anxiety issues would be to keep us closer in operations. We'll watch each other's back closer than any other pair of ground-pounders in history,"

Jack grinned, and Wallace sighed. It was a bullshit argument, both of them knew that, but it could be argued in a court-martial.

"I could argue this stuff for a pretty long time-debate it. Stretched out. All the while, a much-needed Spartan would be away from the battlefront. The big-wigs would be undecided, and therefore, in the interest of getting me back in the fight, would side with me," Jack chuckled.

"You ever consider a career in law, Spartan?" Wallace glared, and Jack shook his head.

"You probably should've," The Captain sighed and rubbed his eyes.

Jack smiled apologetically.

"Captain, she's important to me. Please understand that,"

"I do, kid. Which is why I feel so compelled to end it. It's like seeing a shuttle explosion is slow-motion. I'm trying to limit the suffering," Wallace looked like a tired old man.

"I won't end that way," Jack said carefully, referring to Wallace's past. "I won't let it,"

"Make sure you don't," Wallace said forcefully. "If it happens, it'll haunt you forever. I'll let it go this time… I'm tired of this, boy. But pull a stunt like this again, I will make sure you never see her again,"


	22. Chapter 22

AN: I know it's short. And I know that that'll be what 90% of the reviews say. Ah, well. =)

**1600 Hours, February 13, 2526 (Military Calendar)**

**UNSC Frigate Commonwealth in orbit around planet Bliss.**

In the proud, very recent tradition of Spartans being prepared for anything and everything, Gold Team had a special room of the Armory to themselves. A large part of this room was devoted to MJOLNIR-components and custom tools designed solely for the armor were arranged on racks and in toolboxes. Another part was for… well, everything. Climbing, skydiving, hiking, flying, and EVA gear filled up this space-Spartans were expected to operate in every environment, no excuses. The lion's share of the room was, of course, weapons. Large-caliber pistols, submachine guns, assault and battle rifles, snipers, even softball-sized Spartan fragmentation, flash-bang, concussion, and smoke grenades, and now, four fully repaired suits of MJOLNIR Mark IV armor. Regular marine ordnance was fine, but specialist gear gave the Spartans an edge. From eighty-below moons with no atmosphere, to three hundred degree super-earths with two or three times the gravity of Earth, the Spartans of Gold Team were ready for anything.

Except… boredom. It had been weeks since Bliss had been saved. The Covenant hadn't sent a larger force, which was a good thing, considering that the Bliss defense fleet probably couldn't have swatted an overly big fly at this point. Between four and two ships were operational, depending on how you defined 'operational'. Two were dead in space-no air or power to speak of. They were being repaired, but were virtually dead. The crews had been transferred planetside or to the other ships while the zero-gee mechanics did their magic.

The _Commonwealth_ was alright. Reactor was dead, armor pretty banged up, but she was better than the rest of the fleet. There had been a scare for a few seconds-with no power to the engines, most of the crew had freaked, thinking they were getting sucked into Bliss's gravity well. They almost had, but emergency thrusters had fixed that pretty fast.

Jack, Jorge, Li, and Sheila were on the verge of collapsing from the incredibly powerful and destructive waves of mind-numbing boredom. Jack had gotten adjusted to the violence-at-a-moments-notice lifestyle, but he still had it better than the rest. The rest of Gold had been bounced between random, hectic, and challenging instruction since they were six. Not moving, fighting, strategizing was a totally alien concept to them.

Jack threw on some Navy fatigues and got out of the shower stall. His hair was still wet, but it felt good. He missed the feeling of just being a little bit too cold-Montana was a state of extreme temperatures, always hot or cold, rarely in the middle. The UNSC always kept things at a cool sixty-nine point five degrees Fahrenheit. Which had been nice, at first. But it got a little old, to Jack.

He went straight to the starboard observation bay-she was waiting for him. Fidgeting, of course. Jack grinned, and the little kid in him made a demand. As lightly as he could, Jack slipped up behind her. He moved absolutely silently, slowly, sneaking up behind her.

He grabbed her shoulders and yelled.

"_Boo_!"

Sheila grabbed both hands, spun around, pulled Jack off balance, and punched out, hitting him in the chin.

"Ow! Dammit!" Jack stumbled backwards.

"Dammit, you scared me!" Sheila yelled.

Jack rubbed his chin, somewhere between an adrenaline rage and laughter. "Ok! That was a bad idea!"

"Yeah, it was!" Sheila guffawed. "Now get over here,"

Jack slowly approached, ready to jump away, like he was creeping up on a lion and didn't want to get eaten. His chin hurt.

"You're such an ass!" Sheila laughed. Jack grinned and walked over, put his arms around her.

"You know you love it," He kissed her once, quickly, on the lips.

"Yeah," She confessed, before reciprocating. "But don't tell anyone,"

Jack boomed with laughter.

"God_damn_, how did I get so lucky?" He meant every syllable of that simple, powerful statement. It almost hurt, he felt it so much. Seeing her was like a complete jigsaw puzzle, the sky and ground, like being whole again. She meant so much to him.

"_This is the Captain. Battle stations_," The intercom said. "_Spartans to the bridge, immediately_,"

"Great," They said together, Jack sarcastically and Sheila enthusiastically. Jack got one more kiss for the road, and then they both ran towards the bridge. If the Covenant were attacking, they probably should get in their armor-but the Captain had stressed the word 'immediately', like it was a higher priority. Jack wondered what Wallace was up to. He respected the guy's motives now, sure, but not his actions.

"Jorge, Li?" Sheila said into her throat mike.

"_On our way_," Jorge said.

"Wow, here come the freaks," A female ODST muttered to her friend as Jack and Sheila blew past them. Jack didn't have time for any good rebuttals, so he spun, and, running backwards for a second, flipped them off with both barrels. He grinned tauntingly before spinning back forward, not missing a beat.

"You're an asshole!" Sheila laughed.

"As long as I use my powers for good, my conscious is clear," Jack chuckled.

They slowed to a job when they got to the bridge, then saluted. Jorge and Li were already there.

"The Covenant are massing for an attack, just outside of the system," Wallace said plainly. "A ship arrives every minute or so. So far, they've got twenty-four ships,"

The Spartans were stunned. No one spoke. _One_ ship could overwhelm the fleet, at this point.

"I understand your training included tactical decisions in orbital as well as ground warfare. Suggestions would be welcome," Wallace said this slowly. Li stepped forward.

"S-sir. There is only-"

"Slipspace rupture detected. Twenty-five ships, Captain," A blank-faced lieutenant interrupted.

"There is… one option," Li said, breathing heavily.

"What is it, Spartan?" Wallace intoned.

"We need to… to retreat. Preserve military assets that might… might save others,"

_From the fate we'd be leaving these people to_, Jack thought. He thought he might vomit.

"Are suggesting we run?" Wallace closed his eyes.

"We have no choice," Li shuddered slightly. "We could die in a last stand, but Bliss would be glassed anyway, and other colonies might need us,"

"We can't run," Jack whispered. "We can't abandon these people,"

"We wouldn't survive sixty seconds," Jorge's fists shook at his sides.

"Then we'll die fighting!" Sheila yelled at him, shocked. "Protecting civilians!"

"That's the difference between a life spent and a life wasted," Li said. "We'd be wasting our lives fighting for a lost cause,"

"Mother fucker, what's _wrong with you_?" Jack yelled, horrified. "There are millions of fucking people down there!"

"The captains of the rest of the fleet agree with you. All of you. They put it to a vote. The cruisers _Weeping Willows_ and _Matador_, as well as the frigate _Purpose_ have decided to stay and fight. The destroyer _Constantine_ is leaving with us," Wallace said.

"We don't get a vote?" Sheila asked.

"No. I am Commanding Officer of this vessel, and the burden is on me," Wallace closed his eyes. "You clarified the matter for me. Thank you. Lieutenant Murrow, spin up the slipspace drive. Spartans, you are dismissed. Don't bother getting into your armor,"

LBLBLB

"I'm assuming the hour rule is temporarily gone, assuming we'll be in slipspace for a while," Sheila said softly as she slipped into the observation bay. Jack was on the crappy little military-issue couch, scowling, facing the void.

"Better be. I don't want to hurt Wallace," Jack growled.

"Are you… ok?"

Jack jumped off of the couch and started pacing.

"We just left them! We just…," Sheila saw tears on his face.

"We had to," Sheila said, not moving.

"Millions of people! Jobs, spouses, children, cousins, grandparents, cars, homes, _cities_… We just… left them to die," His pacing got faster.

"We didn't have a choice," Sheila whispered past something in her throat.

"We _always_ have a choice!" Jack roared. "We could have stalled the fleet, allowed some of them to evacuate…,"

"And the UNSC would have lost another ship, and four Spartans. We aren't an infinite resource-we needed to live to fight another day, so we can stop more things like this from happening," Sheila bowed her head.

"We _ran_! Like fucking pussies! We didn't do our duty to those people," Jack stopped pacing and headed for the door.

"What are you thinking?" Sheila was scared, which in itself was scary. Sheila was never scared. The only other time she'd remembered feeling fear was back on New Trinity, when a plasma grenade had nearly killed her, when Jack had saved her. Now Jack was terrifying.

"I am going to have a chat with our Sangheili friend,"

LBBLBLBLB

"Are you well, Exellency?" Kitik asked Irou. The Sangheili got the feeling that the diminutive Unggoy was not asking out of the kindness of his heart, but the closeness of their shared cell. Irou wondered if the Grunt was worried that Irou would punish him for being so friendly with the humans.

"Fairly well. The humans have not been unkind. Are you?"

Kitik seemed surprised by the question.

"Um, yes, Excellency. The human's methane tastes strange, but is sufficient. And their delicious food bars are far more than sufficient. May I ask why you… er… asked?" Irou chuckled.

"We are not so different. Both former warriors of the Covenant. Both lower-caste,"

"Excellency?"

"I am… smaller than other Sangheili, which is looked down on in our culture, despite my earned honor," Irou clicked his mandibles in a shrug. He shifted, trying to get comfortable on the human cot.

"I have been thinking about what the human male said. Perhaps my kind have been less than fair with yours,"

Kitik said nothing. He did not know what to say that would not offend the Elite. Agree with him, that the Unggoy have been unfairly treated for hundreds of years? Or contradict him? Kitik said nothing, so Irou continued.

"The Sangheili have always been quick to judge, and quicker to go to war. Perhaps we have misjudged humanity,"

"But how can the Prophets have made such a mistake?" Kitik couldn't stop himself from saying.

"I don't know," Irou frowned. "I don't know how to reconcile my faith with this new knowledge,"

Kitik scratched his arm. He didn't know either.

The door crashed open, startling the pair. Jack walked in.

"Hello," Irou said.

"How do you do it?" Jack said, his tone and body language completely alien to the Sangheili. "How do you kill so many people and not care?"

"I do not underst-"

"How do you murder people by the millions and think that it's in any way ok?" Jack yelled.

"The majority of the Covenant believe it is necessary," Irou said, confused.

It was the exact wrong thing to say. Jack took one big step forward, grabbed Irou by his serpentine throat, and threw him across the cell. Kitik chittered and curled into a ball as Irou coughed and hacked on the floor.


	23. Chapter 23

AN: I know, updates are slow. I apologize. But it's winter break, and I'm back at my moms house until it's over and the dorms are accessible again. This place isn't the best place to right-I have sleeping pills, TV, and good wifi. My bad. Things will speed right back up when I get back to school, in some weird paradoxical way. Plus, I hated this part of the story. By the way, enjoy the chapter. =)

Comfortable darkness. Ease. Relaxation. No sense of time. There wasn't any thought. Nothing came rushing to the forefront of his consciousness. Then his eyes cracked open.

It was a familiar scene. He was in a hospital bed, with steel gray walls. Sitting across the room, typing into a small laptop, was Dr. Halsey. He felt the familiar, somewhat strangely comforting feel of thick restraints latching his wrists and ankles to the bed.

Jack blinked slowly, wishing he could rub his eyes. He struggled to remember why he was there. He had one small memory-the feel of leathery scales in the palm of his hand. Adrenaline. Rage. Then… nothing.

"Good. You're awake," Halsey said, but there wasn't a smile in her voice.

Jack had… attacked the Elite. Irou. Picked him up and tossed him like a Frisbee. Why?

"I've been debating whether or not I should give you a full psychiatric workup," Halsey said, closing the laptop.

He'd rushed the unsuspecting alien. The Elite hadn't understood the human incarnation of anger-hadn't been prepared for an attack. Why? What had driven him that far?

"You were barely restrained after three tranquilizer darts," Halsey stood up.

Bliss. It all came flooding back. The debate with the Captain. Deciding to run away. Leaving millions to die. The fury. The guilt and sadness and the raw, electrifying _anger_. Jack experienced it all over again. His heart raced.

"You remember?" Halsey asked, taking a light step back.

"Yeah," Jack flexed against the titanium-A restraints lightly. They flexed and popped, but stayed locked.

"I was gonna make the bastard pay! Why'd you stop me?" Jack yelled. The restraints groaned.

"I didn't do it," Halsey murmured.

"Who did?" Jack roared, ready to break out as soon as she told him.

Sheila walked into the room, subdued. Her eyes were red.

Jack was shocked. His anger went out like a light.

"Me," Sheila whispered.

Jack felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He didn't know how to handle this.

"I… I," Jack felt packed to the brim-he didn't know what to feel.

"I'm sorry," Sheila shook lightly, and fresh tears came down her cheeks. Jack was galvanized.

"Don't apologize. You did the right thing," Jack wanted to snap the restraints off again-this time to comfort the perfect girl, the woman he'd hurt.

"I think I'll leave," Halsey said solemnly, and she left.

Sheila cried, but didn't come to Jack. When she took a step back, he felt like he'd been stabbed.

"I'm so sorry," He said, trying to put all his feeling into those three words.

She cried harder.

Jack was torn. He could break out in a second, be holding her in two, but would she want him to?

Would breaking out scare her?

"Honey, I'm so sorry I made you do that," He said. "I… I wasn't myself,"

"Don't… make excuses," Sheila said weakly.

"Ok. I won't. I'm sorry,"

"Do you know what it was like? Pointing a gun at you and pulling the trigger?" She shuddered and closed her eyes.

"I cannot even tell you how sorry I am," Jack said.

"If you ever do anything like that again, it's over,"

It felt like a slap in the face.

"I swear, it'll never happen again," Jack said fervently.

"Good," Sheila turned and left Jack alone with his thoughts.

He had lost control. He had attacked a POW, who might've been turned into an ally. He had scared Kitik out of his mind-something he would have never allowed from anyone. Worst of all, he'd hurt Sheila. Jack snapped out of the restraints and finally rubbed his eyes.

He didn't cry; he wasn't that kind of guy. He'd been brought up with the mentality that crying was both weakness and uselessness-men who cry are men who don't solve their problems. But he did sigh and rub his temples.

First, he'd apologize to Irou. The implications of Jack's actions were troubling-Irou might not want to cooperate with the Office of Naval Intelligence. Of course, he still would, but what Jack did might be the difference between an interrogation and an interview. Between slow torture and pleasantries. While doing that, he'd be planning how to get Sheila to forgive him.

Jack didn't know which one would be harder, but he knew that the alien's forgiveness would weigh heavily on his conscious. He didn't want to responsible for any kind of suffering, least of all the kind that ONI could and would inflict. He remembered, when he first arrived: Halsey so casually suggesting that if he were discovered he would be tortured, then disposed of.

He'd let things get personal. He'd let it get in the way of his job. Bad under any circumstances, made much, much worse by the fact that the stakes were so high. It wouldn't happen again.

He sat up and snapped the restraints from his legs. Then he popped his neck and got up. In his bag, by the wall, he found his gray Navy uniform. He threw that on, got cleaned up, and walked out.

He had ignored the mirror. Because he looked like shit, which he'd already known.

It was a couple minute walk to the brig. Jack took his time, thinking, but when he arrived, his plan was as ill-thought-out and inadequate as it had been when he'd started. He ran his hands through his hair, scratched his scalp. Then he opened the cell.

Or tried to. When he'd kicked it open before, the thick sliding doors had bent around Jack's foot, before destroying the wall and hitting the ground. More eager to secure the valuable prisoners than to repair the door and walls right, the whole ugly mess had just been welded shut.

How were the idiots planning on getting Irou and Kitik out? A torch? Jack shook his head. Luckily, the slot where food, water, and methane containers were put in was ten feet farther along the wall, undamaged. And next to that, a speaker and mike.

"Can you hear me?" Jack asked into the microphone.

"Yes," A squeaky voice answered earnestly.

"Is 'Hirantmee there?" Jack asked idiotically.

"Er, yes," Kitik said obviously.

"Does he want to talk to me?" Jack felt like he was three years old.

There was a whispery sound, followed by a low growl.

"Um, no," Kitik said.

"I want to explain why I… did that thing… I did," Jack felt moronic.

More whispering, another growl, more whispering. A sound like a smack.

"Er… Kitik, are you alright?" Jack frowned.

"Yes, I am alright," The voice was somewhat disjointed, like you sometimes hear when someone talks after taking a shot to the jaw.

"Can he hear me in there?" Jack sighed.

"This is a small cell, Excellency,"

"Man, don't call me that. Alright… Irou. A much larger fleet attacked, right after we barely fought off the first one. There was no chance we could stop them," Jack felt his stomach turn, but kept his words steady. "There was a discussion with our… shipmaster. It was decided that we should run, because the result for the people would have been the same either way, and the shipmaster felt that a suicidal defense would be detrimental to the war effort,"

"I disagreed. I thought that dying for others would be better than leaving them to die. I thought that would be a good way to die. I still do. But it wasn't my decision to make, and I was upset. Irou, your Covenant kills so many people that thinking about it makes me shake. I was angry beyond what I could control, and I went to you, the closest thing to hostile Covenant that I could find. I'm sorry,"

"Do you understand?" Jack asked doubtfully.

"I believe so," Irou said neutrally through the speaker. "For your kind, honor is amassed by protection of others. You wanted to protect the humans of the planet, for honor. Is that correct?"

"Sort of. But for humans, everyone already has honor-everyone starts equal and valuable. The trick is to keep it. To me, I guess, that honor is a big piece of who I am. I didn't want to lose it," Jack sighed.

"Your honor is not lost," Irou said calmly. "Circumstance beyond your control conspired against you. Your shipmaster ordered you,"

"I should have convinced him," Jack closed his eyes.

"You could not have. Many Sangheili, myself included, have respected humanity for its military discipline and strict chain of command. You were honor-bound to obey,"

Jack blinked. He hadn't thought of it that way.

"Thank you," He said. "So, do you understand? Am I forgiven?"

"My friend, Sangheili also do things we regret in a blood-anger. You are both understood and forgiven," Irou said.

"Thank you," Jack said, and meant it. "And Kitik, I'm sorry if I scared you,"

"With respect to Excellency 'Hirantmee," Kitik said. "In Covenant, Unggoy are not treated well. You have been kinder to me than most my own brood-brothers. And Unggoy not scare easily,"

Irou chuckled.

"Well, I'm leaving. Take care, you guys,"

"And you, as well," Irou said.

Jack was almost smiling as he left the brig. On a whim, he went to the armory.

It seemed like the UNSC was deliberately and purposely throwing every expensive toy they had at the Spartans. Jack liked to sit and examine the weapons, look them over, and read their specs. The obvious design and perfect precision was, in a way, inspiring. To the nanometer, UNSC tech was as flawless as human hands could craft it. From eighty-pound death machines to eight-ounce stealth pocket pistols, every square millimeter was designed for a reason, to be part of a whole. Designed with intent, as part of a working piece. Jack looked at the sheer amount of logic that had to go into making so many parts work as one-the level of intelligence and forethought that went into making an assault rifle fire. It helped him think. It clarified things.

Jack didn't want Sheila. He didn't even need her. She was a part of him, now. She had taken him over, and now he couldn't function without her. She was an integral, important part of him-to let her stay mad at him would be like cutting off his left leg.

And that little fact clarified things further.

Jack knew a lot was riding on the next minute or so. He stopped at the door to her room. Then he took a deep breath and went in. The lights were off, so he turned them on. At first he didn't think she was in, but then he saw a small blanket-covered pile on her bed.

"Sheila, you up?" Jack realized that he had no idea what time it was. Ship life was disconcerting that way-and when people had their own artificial suns under their control, the time of day meant little.

"No," She croaked. Jack thought there was something peculiar about her voice. It didn't sound like the rasp of someone very recently asleep.

"Should I come back later?" Jack felt unsure.

"No. Stay," Sheila sat up. Jack saw that her eyes were red.

"Holy shit, are you ok?" Jack sat down and put an arm around her.

"Yeah," Sheila failed to lie.

"I am so goddamn sorry," Jack pulled her close and just held her.

"Don't do it again," She whispered.

"I can't even believe I freaked out like that. That isn't what I do," Jack frowned.

"Hey," Sheila snuggled close.

"Yeah?" Jack asked.

"Shut up,"

Jack smiled.

"I'm never going to hurt you again. I love you so much," Jack kissed the top of her head.

"What?" Sheila croaked up at him, awestruck.

"You heard me," Jack grinned.

"Did you just…,"

"Yes I did,"

"The first time?"

"Yep,"

"Oh," Sheila seemed softly stunned.

"Ahem," Jack cleared his throat.

"What?" Sheila said.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Jack looked slightly worried.

"What?"

"You know," Jack nudged her.

"I don't see what…," Sheila's eyes got wide. Jack raised an eyebrow evilly.

"Jack, I love you too,"

Jack whooped and laughed, slightly startling her.

"See? That right there? Sweetheart, love, that made this whole ordeal worth it,"

"Really?"

"I have not been this happy for a long, long time," He kissed her gently.

Sheila laughed. "Imagine how much'll take us to get to third base?"

"With your prudeness, probably ten years and a marriage," Jack grimaced. Sheila raised an eyebrow.

"Well, what's wrong with marriage?"

"Um, nothing. I just have a little difficulty imagining myself in a tux," Jack groaned.

"Come on. You would look good in a tux," Sheila teased.

"I might, but that's not what I just realized," Jack raised a middle finger and swept it around the room. "We didn't take this to the supply closet,"

"You're very welcome, Dr. Halsey!" Sheila called out angrily.

* * *

Four and a half hours later, the famously stoic and stern Dr. Catherine Halsey finished her work, took a long shower, got into comfortable clothing, microwaved some popcorn, and sat down at her computer to check today's highlights. This little scene shot from a pinhole camera made her laugh so hard that she fell out her chair, staying there in a hilarity-induced seizure for ten minutes. She was crying when she finally got back up.

"You can't make crap like this up," She giggled.


	24. Chapter 24

AN: Well, dear 1nt3rn3tz, here is your Christmas present. Almost twice as big as the usual chapter, for your reading enjoyment. Oh, and Angel, _no spoilers for you_! Oh, don't like it? Go cry to Red Mage 04. Jerk. lol

"_General quarters. Prepare to repel boarders. We'll be exiting slipspace in twenty minutes, and I want everyone ready to go_," Wallace said over the intercom. He sounded bored.

"That's crap," Jack said, setting cards on the table. "I had a good hand,"

"Not as good as mine," Jorge grinned as he put his down. He was getting seriously good at poker.

"Why would the captain order general quarters right when we get to Reach?" Li wondered as they got up and headed for the arms locker. "I mean, sure, the Outer Colonies, fine, but Reach?"

It had been over two months since Bliss had burned. The Commonwealth was rearmed, repaired, and ready for Covenant. But, naturally, the Covenant was taking its sweet time. It was difficult to find human worlds, now that Admiral Cole had kicked the Covenant off of Harvest and enacted the Cole Protocol. The old hurry-up-and-wait military mentality was getting low on the hurry-up and a little heavy on the wait. It had been weeks since Gold Team had seen any action.

"Pays to be prepared," Sheila said. "Better to be ready and not need it than to not be ready and need it,"

"That was a mouthful," Jack commented as he reached his suit of MJOLNIR armor. Three weeks ago, it had been finally realized that though Jack had been slotted into Gold Team as a replacement for the tech expert, Ted, he had no technical expertise. Dr. Halsey had suggested training the young Spartan, and for the last few weeks Jack had been given a crash course in hacking, engineering, electronics, and everything else that the marines and Naval personnel on the Commonwealth could teach. Jack learned fast, very fast, but there was always something new.

In those weeks, he'd begun to truly appreciate how complex and resilient a system the MJOLNIR armor was. He'd been eager to modify it, at first, but now that he'd received enough training to appreciate it, he didn't know how to improve it, except crudely welding on new armor plating, which he didn't. It would be like gluing a paper airplane to the Mona Lisa.

Jack put on the undersuit, snapped on the inner matte-black armor layer, then the heavy alloy plates. The helmet gave him the familiar HUD, and, as always, he felt a little less like a teenager and more like a half-ton killing machine. Just a little bit more invincible. It was a good feeling.

Jack then sauntered over to a chair and sat down. The Gold followed suit. If they were needed, they would be called.

"Is it me, or Nessie throwing curveballs a lot more these days?" Jorge groaned as he patted his armored stomach, referring to the Commonwealth's chief chef. Jack's stomach growled.

"That may be related to my new diet: not eating," Jack grunted.

"Not quite. I noticed we've been running low on energy bars," Sheila grinned.

"Hey, some of those were for Kitik. Weird little guy loves 'em. I even gave one to Irou, he didn't complain much," Jack chuckled.

"So 'Hirantmee isn't 'mass murderer' anymore? First-name basis?" Li snickered. "And wouldn't the little hard bits, the peanuts, get stuck in his mandibles?"

"Hence 'didn't complain much' as opposed to 'didn't complain'. I've been talking to the guy. He's cool, in that weird alien way," Jack shrugged. "Did you guys know that someone on A-Deck gave him a Bible and a cross? Didn't really go over well,"

Jorge laughed. "Wow, really? Hope you calmed him down,"

"Yeah, yeah. I explained the basic tenets of the religion, he understood why someone would do that. He still called it 'heresy', though," Jack shook his head.

"What do you guys think of that stuff, by the way?" Jack had tried to bring this stuff up before, but had been ignored each time. It may have been the armor-induced feeling of invincibility, may have been the hunger, but Jack was determined for an answer.

"What stuff?" Li answered warily.

"You know, God. And stuff," Jack shrugged.

"Let's talk about politics, or something less troubling," Jorge said, and Sheila nodded.

"You guys, I've been stonewalled on this stuff for months. Let's just talk for a little bit. This stuff affects the lives of billions of people, you can't say it isn't important," Jack stuck to his metaphorical guns.

"Yeah, but this has been debated for two and a half millennia, by people a lot smarter than us. If they haven't reached a consensus, who's to say we will?" Jorge commented, always the voice of reason.

"Well, I wouldn't say there hasn't been a consensus. Just that the vast majority of people like to put imagination into their lives, because reality sucks," Li ran with it, with a grin.

"Now, come on, children, let's be respectful," Sheila said. "Besides, we all know there's something bigger than us out there,"

"That's debatable," Jack said.

"Let's do this democratically," Jorge said diplomatically. "Everyone for Mr. Higher Power, raise your hand," Only Sheila raised a hand. When Jack didn't, she stuck her tongue out at him. Jack chuckled.

"Alright. Agnostics, show of hands," Jorge and Jack raised their hands. Everyone looked at Li.

"So what are you?" Sheila asked, unstoppably.

"Atheist," Li said calmly.

"_Why_?" Sheila asked incredulously. "That's stupid!"

"Yeah, I'm the stupid one? _Really_?" Li folded his arms.

"See, this is why we never rock the boat," Jorge muttered to Jack, who nodded apologetically.

"You can't prove God doesn't exist!" Sheila shouted.

"You can't prove he does exist. You just assume that he does, and he is your god, not like some Greek god from millennia ago," Li pointed out.

"You're just _blinded_ to the _obvious_ fact that-"

"_Spartans to the briefing room immediately_!" The intercom blared.

"Thank god," Jorge chuckled as he got up.

"A_ha_!" Sheila pointed triumphantly.

* * *

"Hello, Spartans. I'm glad this meeting is under better circumstances," Wallace looked at all of them, particularly Jack, who squirmed a little. Not pleasant memories.

"Yes, sir," Sheila said.

"We got here just in time, it seems. Insurrectionist commandos have captured the UNSC cruiser Waterloo," Wallace said. "As the rest of the Spartans are scattered along the Covenant front, High Command has ordered you to retake the Waterloo. Any questions?"

"Why hasn't the ship left, sir?" Jack asked. "If they've taken it?"

"It seems the Waterloo's AI disabled the slipspace drive when it became clear the rebels were getting the ship. We don't know when they'll be able to fix it, so time is a factor,"

"Sir, why hasn't the ship already been retaken?" Jorge asked.

"It was a complete blitz. Most of the crew survived, as hostages,"

Shit, Jack thought. That'll complicate things.

"Command does not have enough confidence in its home-based Special Warfare operatives. So it's very lucky that we got here when we did. You've got five minutes to get to a pelican, which'll then take you to Platform-PD19, where you will be further briefed. Operation Sandman commences no later than 1900 hours. Dismissed,"

The Spartans saluted. Then they jogged out.

"Li and I will run to the armory. Grab us some guns. We'll meet up by the shuttle bay," Sheila said. Li nodded and ran off. "Jorge, get the pelican ready to fly. Jack, get whatever we might need, and pack it in,"

"Yes, ma'am," Jorge said.

"Aye, ma'am," Jack said.

* * *

Platform PD-19 was a relic. Back when the idea of shipboard MAC cannons existed only in theory, the Platforms ruled orbit. Half a square kilometer, Platforms were massive rectangular plates. They had hundreds of missiles and dozens of extremely accurate antimissile turrets. For both orbital bombardment and defense, Platforms provided options for commanders. In the era of MAC cannons, however, they were useless-essentially giant, slow targets whose effective range was half that of the least advanced frigates. Jack wondered how long they would last against the Covenant. They were doubly obsolete, after all. The second they stepped out of the pelican onto the Platform's miniscule hangar, they were greeted by an older gentleman.

"You brought your own gear?" The balding Lieutenant Commander asked them, for some reason. They were all hefting Jack's modified snipers, as well as M40 semi-auto shotguns, with all the special explosive rounds they had. Jack and Jorge, being the stronger Spartans, were hefting backpacks that held upwards of eighty pounds of ammunition apiece, for all of Gold's weapons.

"Er, yes," Jack said.

"Good. I'd better get started," The poor guy looked scared out of his mind. "The Innies captured the Waterloo. Time elapsed from the boarding to losing contact with the bridge was three minutes, eight seconds,"

"How did that happen, sir?" Jorge asked. "That might've been a tad difficult, even for us,"

"That's why we're concerned. Unofficially, rumors are flying that the rebels have someone stolen augmentation and armor technologies from the SPARTAN-II program and used it. Command is afraid that the Innies could have their own Spartans. This could be bad,"

Jack scowled. If he'd learned anything at all in this universe, it was that Spartans were trained, not manufactured. Even with his years being brought up in a virtual Special Forces boot camp, Jack had struggled to catch up with his teammates, and still had discipline issues. If the Insurrectionists had gotten the tech, and applied it to normal jarheads, then that would make this job just a little more interesting. Not more difficult.

Jorge was shaking his head, sad and slightly disgusted. Li was standing up a little too straight, a little too stiffly. Sheila had her hands on her hips, in the alarming way that Jack had learned, through trial and error, meant she was royally pissed.

"Spartans are not pieced together in a lab, sir," Li said coldly. "Or assembled on the factory floor,"

"What?" The LC blinked slowly. "Oh. Um, my apologies, Spartans, I didn't mean to imply…,"

"How do we get inside the ship?" Jack interrupted callously.

"Uh, ok. We've been developing a stealth boarding craft. Roughly the size of a pelican-you'll get in close, blow your way into the hull, and sweep through the ship. Speed is of the essence, here. If they can raise the alarm, then the hostages will start getting executed. You need to save as many as possible,"

"Upload the schematics of the ship to our suits," Sheila said. "We'll cut our way to the bridge; stop them from getting any alarm off. Then we'll clear the rest,"

"Gonna try to beat the record?" The little idiot weakly joked. Sheila turned to the rest of Gold Team, and her response was absolutely serious.

"Team, if we don't make it to the bridge of that ship in less than three minutes and eight seconds, then I will personally make your lives hell. I will tear off your ears and shove them up your ass. I will dislocate your shoulders, break your shins, and force you to crab-walk everywhere you go. I will rip off your balls and make you eat them_. Do you understand me_?"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" They all shouted. The little Lieutenant Commander had gone very pale. Jack was grinning behind the visor. The pencil-pusher didn't know it yet, but Sheila had just made a tense and stressful mission into a high-stakes game. They all couldn't wait to get started.

* * *

"Permission to take point, ma'am?" Jack asked.

"Granted,"

"Then can I have two shotguns?" Without having to rack the slide after each shot, fed with magazines instead of shell by ridiculously slow shell, there really wasn't much reason to carry one at a time.

"Sure. Li, pass it forward. Somehow, you work better with your hands, anyway," Li tossed his shotgun to Jack, who grinned. Luckily, they had pistol grips as well as stocks.

"ETA to contact, thirty seconds," Jorge said.

"Alright, pretty open-and-shut. When we get in, a nav point will lead us to the first area. Then another will show up, leading us to the next area. It'll trace a path to the bridge. Shortest possible distance. Diamond formation. Jack's got point, he'll handle everyone up front. Jorge, you get left side, Li, you're on the right. I'll be center, mopping up anything you guys miss. Clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," They said.

"Ten seconds," Jorge said.

"Hate repeating myself, but if those Innies get the high score, you'll get your asses kicked,"

"Got it, sweetie," Jack said.

"Yes, ma'am," Li chuckled.

"Aye," Jorge said. There was a dull thump and a jolt as the boarding craft touched on the ship.

"Vacuum protocols?" Sheila asked. Everyone muttered affirmatives.

"Kick the door in,"

Jorge pressed a button, and the twenty pounds of shaped C-12 exploded, blasting a hole in the hull. Air rushed out against the boarder, but Jorge compensated with thrusters, staying in close. The hatch opened, and the Spartans ran in. They'd targeted maintenance area-unlikely to be any enemies, or hostages, there.

Jack jumped in, hitting the floor just in time with the new gravity. UNSC ships didn't have antigravity tech yet, so gravity forces were simulated with centrifugal force, by spinning the ship. This meant that the hole Jack had jumped through was now the floor, not the wall. It was a little disorienting, but nothing they couldn't handle.

Jack typed some commands in a sealed pressure door. On the other side, the air drained, and the pressure equalized. They walked in, and the door closed. The atmosphere vented back in, slowly.

"Just need some elevator music," Jack muttered under his breath. He checked the timer in the corner of his HUD. They were already twenty-three seconds in.

The pressure equalized. Jack nodded to the others, and opened the door.

The rebels were ready. There were six of them, in mismatched armor, holding all different weapons. Four were taking cover behind an overturned table. Two more were on either side of the door, and as Jack's adrenaline pumped and the world slowed down, he could see, with perfect clarity, two trigger fingers moving. They moved painfully slowly-Jack noticed that both of these ambushers were wearing slightly heavier armor, and were carrying shotguns. Jack raised his own shotguns, one per hand, and lightly turned the enemies' barrels up. Keeping up the momentum, Jack fired both weapons into the Insurrectionist's faces, while their upturned close-assault weapons discharged harmlessly over his head. This had taken less than a fifth of a second.

Jack set the muzzles of his shotguns on either side of the door, the bodies of the first two rebels not even beginning to fall, and catapulted himself across the room. He hit the table with the force of a wrecking ball, the force knocking the four others into the wall, the impact breaking their backs, necks, or skulls. Jack shot a shell into each of their chests, just in case. There were five hostages, tied and gagged, along the walls. Jack started cutting them loose.

"Helluva start," Sheila commented. From start to finish, less than two seconds. The nav point shifted-to the door ahead and to the right. Jack jogged over to it, but before he got there, the door opened. A rebel, female, in patched armor, with an older model UNSC submachine gun. The weapon was pointed at the ground. What Jack saw first was her face. She had pointed, intelligent features, with long eyelashes and brown hair and eyes. She couldn't have been older than nineteen. Jack hesitated for exactly one twentieth of a second. Then he ripped the gun out of her hand, punched her in the chin, and slapped on a set of plastic handcuffs. He threw her in a closet. She was knocked out, and probably would be for the better part of an hour.

"Come on, we don't have time for your sentimental bullshit!" Sheila shouted. "Let's go!"

"Yes, ma'am," Jack shut the door on the closet and locked it. Then he went back to his place at the head of the formation.

It was an endless moment of attacking, killing, and moving on. Jack followed the nav points closely. In almost every room there were rebels, and hostages. It wasn't monotonous work; it was actually quite challenging. He got bored exactly once-and got an armor-piercing round terrifyingly close to punching through his visor. The left side was covered with a spider web of cracks. Jack got back in the game, after that.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Jack led Gold into clearing a room. His adrenaline high was almost gone, but he was still more than fast enough to take a camping Innie's knife and shove it into his windpipe. They were almost to the bridge-time was two minutes, fifty-four seconds.

He checked out the knife for a second. It was a real beauty, even covered with gore. Thirteen inches long, thick blade. Brown leather handle. The first four inches were serrated, but farther up the knife was a straight, sharp edge, curving to an elegant point. Engraved on one side of the blade was a short inscription in Latin: _Virtus est bellator per vereor, non vacuus is._

Two minutes, fifty-eight seconds. Jack stuck the knife to a magnetic holster on his hip.

"Almost there! I want one alive!" Sheila hollered. Jack ran back to the front. The door slid open.

These guys were very different. There were eight of them. Their movements had both the rough efficiency of Special Forces gurus, and the jerky speed of a spider or insect. There wasn't any grace or fluidity, but there was speed. And urgency. They moved faster than any other humans Jack had seen not in combat, despite their heavy armor, which had to be thirty to fifty pounds heavier than the thickest ODST plate.

Five were working the control stations. Three stood in the center of the bridge, eyes on the doors, safeties off. A dozen hostages were lined up along one wall-the bridge crew. One of them was looking directly at Jack. Jack decided to pick that one off-before he could alert the others. Fast as lightning, he raised his weapons-

But before they were half up, the guy screamed.

"Shit! Shit!" He sounded like a crack addict, the words coming so fast they blurred together. Too fast, too jerky, the others looked over and started raising their guns. Jack blew off the loudmouth's head with his left hand shotgun, and killed the other with his right. The third guy opened fire. Six heavy-caliber rounds dented Jack's chest plates, and one found a thinly armored section of the shoulder. It didn't penetrate, but it hurt, and threw off Jack's aim.

Li and Jorge were fanning around, and they shot the rebel. By this time, the rest of the Innie commandoes were up and in the fight.

What the fuck were these freaks? Jack had seen Elites and Spartans move this fast, but never regular humans.

Twenty paces was pushing the range of his shotguns. Jack cursed himself for not loading his special explosive rounds. Jack had to get closer. So he armed two grenades, threw them in the center of the room. In the split second before the grenades blew up, the two sides exchanged fire. Gold Team's coordinated fire dropped two of the commandoes.

Twin blasts of thunder exploded in the center of the bridge-shrapnel bounced off of everyone's armor, but the sound and shock wave stunned almost everyone in the bridge. Jack, however, ran up into the cloud of smoke, activated his thermal vision. Naturally, the heat from the grenades made it difficult, but three blobs of slightly warmer mass were clear. Jack shot one, shot two-

A rifle butt hit him in the throat. Jack coughed and hacked, fell to his knees. An armored knee hit his face-shattering his weakened visor. Razor-sharp shards hit him in the face, cutting him in a dozen different places, and the force of the blow spun him put him on his back. The smoke was almost clear. Jack squinted and saw the tip of a barrel-aimed at his exposed face.

With a wordless roar, Jack swung his legs around and swept the rebel's feet out from under him. Before the Innie's back touched the deck, Jack drew his new knife and slammed it down, hard-through the Insurrectionist's visor, face, brain, back of the skull, back of the helmet, and scraping into the deck.

Jack breathed heavily. After a second, he took off his helmet and started to gingerly probe his wounds.

"So much for taking prisoners," Li joked to one of the bridge crew he had just released, who obviously didn't get it.

"Time?" Jack asked. Without his helmet, he couldn't check.

"Three minutes, seven-point-two seconds," Jorge laughed. Something snapped inside Jack, and he laughed loudly. He had to laugh, or he would seize up into a ball on the floor. He had been an atom's breadth from death, and he had to laugh. He was shaking from the adrenaline and fear and the anger and the _fear_. And the fucking _fear_. So close, so goddamn close, to losing everything. Jack laughed, or he would have cried.


	25. Chapter 25

AN: I'm baaaaaaaack! Sorry about that... circumstances beyond my control, and a girl. It's a long story. Ahem. I understand that this is easily the shortest chapter I've posted on this story... and I apologize. But the reason it's so short is that I wrote a little bit of sexual content. Yes! I was vulgar enough to write it, but too old-fashioned to post it for the world to see. Eipok, no it isn't, don't even ask! . If you want it, O powerful and wise 1nt3rn3ts, message me. This chapter's so short because I edited the lemon out. Enjoy, and sorry for the lateness. More to come, and I hope to get back to the speed of updating that I had way back when.

"Ow! Shit," Jack growled at the pair of tweezers digging in his left cheek.

"Don't complain. You refused painkillers," Li said as he yanked out another gold-orange shard, eliciting another growl. It dropped in the glass with a _clink_.

"Don't want to walk around for an hour afterward slurring like an idiot and biting my tongue and not feeling it," The least powerful pain medication aboard Commonwealth was a local anesthetic that touched skin and numbed the area. Jack had unpleasant memories from the dentist.

"Well, then, stop being a baby. If you hadn't gotten your visor shattered-"

"Are you telling me that I should have avoided a knee to the face? Excellent advice,"

Li frowned. "You alright?"

"I'm fantastic. I'm alright. Fine,"

"You gave three responses to one question, and each one was worse than the last," Li mercilessly dug into the cheek, and pulled out a razor-sharp grain of sand.

"Then don't bother to ask two more questions. I've answered you in advance," Jack groaned and raised a tissue, to stem the new blood trickling down. "I should get a nurse to do this,"

"Nurses don't have Spartan eyesight or dexterity," Li grinned. "And besides, with you getting so serious with Sheila, you shouldn't have anything to do with Navy nurses,"

That made Jack chuckle, which might not have been wise, considering that it jostled the tweezers searching around in his wounds.

"Ow! Dammit!"

"Hold still, you big baby,"

* * *

"Well, the _Waterloo's_ back under UNSC control," Jorge pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bunk. "Out of close to four hundred hostages, only a dozen or so bit it,"

"Only a dozen?" Jack was lightly scratching his stitches, staring at the bunk above him. "Is that what we call success?"

"Yes," Jorge said forcefully. "That's, what? Three percent? A damn sight better than it would have been under regular circumstances,"

Jack said nothing, but raised an eyebrow.

"They would have boarded with ODSTs. Unaugmented, of course. And they would have failed, at least on the lives saved scale. ONI projections have been shared-they estimate close to eighty percent hostage casualties. They would have gone anyway,"

"I'm trying to not believe you," Jack muttered.

"They would have. They would've had to-if it's a choice between four hundred squids or thousands of civvies, the choice would have been obvious. You know the Innies, Jack. You would've given them a UNSC Cruiser? With God knows how many missiles and MAC rounds? Pelicans, longsword fighters, shortsword bombers, nukes? It would have been a massacre on Covenant scale,"

"Maybe. What if the ODST's screwed up?" Jack asked.

"They would have shot it down, squids and all," Jorge said calmly. "That's what service means-if you die to save civilians… then there's no better way to go out. That applied to the hostages as well as us,"

Jack shivered. It wasn't just the thought of himself almost dying-it was the terrible foreshadowing. He knew how Jorge would die-almost thirty years from now, sacrificing himself to save the planet they were in orbit over. Or so he would think. A massive Covenant fleet would arrive seconds afterwards, and Jorge's sacrifice would be in vain. Jack took a deep breath.

"I almost died," He stated. It was a simple, bare statement.

"Yeah," Jorge said sympathetically.

"That Innie had me dead to rights. I could… fuck, I could almost see the bullet all the way down the barrel, ready to slice into my eye and flatten against the back of my skull,"

"That's what courage is," Jorge said. "Running into hell, sprinting, with a smile and some good jokes. Ready for it. In training, we all went through near-death experiences like that. At least, we thought we had. None of us bought the farm, then. But we had reactions similar to yours,"

"How did you deal with it?" Jack looked at him.

"Be square. Be honest. Have the affairs in order. Be completely certain that after your ticket gets punched, that the people you care about will carry on. Make sure nothing goes unsaid. Think about the end-accept that someday, somehow, all of us die. But consider the luck of people in our line of work-that we don't have to get old and wrinkled and incontinent. We get to die with our boots on, in the field, like men. We get to die for others, with honor. Am I making any sense?" Jorge sounded a little embarrassed.

"A little," Jack admitted.

"Good. Debriefing's in an hour. We asked them to give you some time. Until then, I think Sheila would appreciate a chat, as well,"

* * *

Sheila was sitting in the observation deck, looking at space and wringing her hands. She looked so small and thin, almost emaciated, hunched in the chair. Her midnight hair was almost touching her shoulders, just slightly curly at the ends. She seemed so vulnerable there, out of the bulky MJOLNIR armor. Jack would have had some difficulty reconciling this fragile teenage girl with the ballsy, vulgar leader he'd just fought and killed with, a few months ago. He knew better, now. Under that soft, beautiful outer shell, the emotion and laughter, was a solid titanium core. He loved and respected every inch of her.

"Hey," Jack murmured. She turned to him, and Jack saw the dark eyes under her new bangs widen. She smiled suddenly, jumped up, and hugged him fiercely. Jack embraced her as well, and for a moment the black void he'd narrowly avoided, retreated. The emptiness of death, just beyond his fingertips ever since that second, receded. It was replaced by the warmth and honesty of Sheila's presence.

He withdrew slightly, kissed her forehead. Then an inch lower, and then the end of her button nose. Then he kissed her lips, and everything around them seemed to fade and melt away.

"I love you," Jack whispered to her.

"You too," She murmured back. "You had me scared for a second,"

"Me, too. I was scared of losing you,"

He kissed her again, with the ease of practice.

* * *

"Well, Spartans, you'll be glad to know that the _Waterloo_ is fully back under old management. Although the leadership did not survive, we've gleaned several important things from the lower ranks, as well as the bodies," Dr. Halsey pushed her glasses up her nose.

"You reported that the Insurrectionists at the _Waterloo's_ bridge were different. Faster, stronger, things like that. Autopsies have verified this. These commandoes were not augmented, so put that thought out of your heads. They seemed mostly normal, until blood analysis came back.

"We didn't like the results. They had several chemical compounds in their blood. Synthetic adrenaline, for one. I'll spare you the boring details, but suffice it to say that these men were chemically tapping into reserves of strength and speed usually reserved for extreme need. This is dangerous, naturally. The human body only uses them in life-threatening instances, and never for longer than a few minutes. They tapped into these reserves, it is estimated, for up to an hour before the _Waterloo_ was boarded. At a microscopic scale, these men were tearing themselves apart. They would have died within the hour, we believe,"

"Interestingly enough, only one of the insurgents at the bridge was not given this chemical cocktail. We've identified him as one Colonel Johanson. Formerly of Section Three. Johanson was one of five officers thought killed in a raid several years ago," Dr. Halsey smiled. "Well, it seems the Insurrectionists were very confident in the raid. On Johanson's body was a PDA containing treasure troves of intelligence. Not the least of which is the locations of dozens of cells across UNSC space. As soon as you're recovered and your armor is repaired, Gold Team will be sent against them, as will two other Spartans Teams pulled from the front,"


	26. Chapter 26

AN: I like this one a lot. I also like that this is the beginning of the end-a satisfying ending is on the horizon, then, a break for me. Sequel? Mehbeh. Thanks to Scarface, for poking me into writing. If you guys want a chapter faster, send me a message or a review. Kick my ass into shape; remind me that you're waiting and impatient. I don't like it when people assume something and then get mad that I can't read their minds. . Also, if I know people like my stuff, it'll make me want to work.

Jack checked his watch again.

_0403_

Sighed. And went back to counting the dark brown spots of stuff on the bottom of the bunk above him.

_One fifty-nine, one sixty, one sixty-one_…

He didn't know what the stuff was, and wasn't sure he wanted to know. Shit, blood, some leftover chemical goo from the bunks manufacturing… Jack shook his head.

_One_… What number was he on? Jack cussed under his breath. He'd have to start over again. Jack wriggled, slightly shaking the bunk above him. The ODST grunted and muttered.

"Banan… cheese…,"

Banana cheese? Jack tapped his feet against the titanium plate at the foot of his bed, while the top of his head tickled the head of the bunk. Jack's stomach growled.

These beds were designed for Marines and ODSTs, one of the Commonwealth's four barracks, placed evenly along the ship. A long room, with stacked bunks two high, welded on either wall. Six beds long. Under the bottom of the lowest beds, two Marine's worth of armor and weapons were stored. If the Commonwealth was boarded by surprise, ninety-six fighting men and women could be ready in under three minutes. Less, if they deigned to fight in their pajamas. Not counting the one hundred ninety-two Marines and ODSTs up and about. They slept in shifts, eight hours each. Everyone worked ten-hour days, not including meals. There usually weren't sleep issues.

The Spartans weren't like usual soldiers. They weren't deployed either like Marines or Special Forces ODSTs, who had their own designated beds and areas. Gold Team had replaced most of an ODST fireteam. Which was lucky, because they got bigger beds than the grunts. The Spartans were so new that UNSC ships weren't designed around them. Jack snorted.

But he couldn't fault them on design. Although space was an issue, sturdiness was not. The frames of the bunks were all connected, and there wasn't a spot that was less than four inches thick. All welded. All titanium-A. The barracks were literally built into the superstructure of the ship. Despite Jack's size, nothing ever creaked. Even when he was sleeping in his armor. The UNSC built to last.

He wished he could share a bed with Sheila, who was gently snoring on the other side of the narrow room. But the beds weren't even big enough for one Spartan, and there wouldn't be much intimacy, not with dozens of other people there with them. Plus the bed smelled like sweat and ass.

Jack wondered why he couldn't sleep. He was tired, very tired. A little sore, even. The bed was relatively comfortable… it reminded him of summer camp, back home. Those cheap little plastic mattresses they put in cabins. That made him homesick… he decided to think about Sheila again.

The smell of the bunk was pervasive, but Jack got over it. What hit him was each time he entered, the smell hit him each time. But Sheila didn't care.

She was petite. Small, by Spartan standards. Out of armor she was barely a head taller than the ODSTs. Her black hair was soft and straight, just a little curled at the ends. It was halfway to her shoulders. Jack looked over and smiled. With his augmented vision he could see the little strands of her bangs over her mouth. When she exhaled, they danced over her face. She looked so delicate, so perfect, like a painting. Her features were sharp; high cheekbones, a pointed chin, long eyelashes. If he hadn't known her for months, hadn't seen her fighting and killing with brutally cold efficiency… he wouldn't have believed it. She looked like nothing he'd ever seen. Like she was made of glass. He wanted nothing more than to protect her.

But. But. _But_…. Jack knew that she might not make it. Might not survive the war. Humanity would fight the Covenant for thirty years. Jack knew one thing about Sheila from the books… that Sheila-132 dies in 2544. Nineteen years. So much could happen in nineteen years. They could marry, have kids… In nineteen years they would both be thirty-three. They could be _established_, have their own home, a couple dogs, neighbors. They would be looking at schools for their kids, who, if they were born when their parents were eighteen or nineteen, would be about their own age now. High schools, then.

Jack shivered in cold pain and anger.

The UNSC wouldn't let any Spartans retire. Might not even if there was no Covenant. And while the Covenant _was_ there… They could be middle-aged by the time the war was over, if either of them survived.

Jack saw the future. He saw things as they _should_ be. Sheila, glowing, happy. Holding hands, looking at homes. Changing diapers. Researching and picking out good pre-schools. Tight hugs before leaving them with smiling caretakers. Elementary schools. Buying school supplies, arguing over pencils. Middle schools, high schools. Cleaning his gun while inviting their daughter's date in. Comforting their son after his first broken heart. Fixing their car because kids these days had no idea what an alternator was. Colleges.

It hurt more than he could comprehend, that that future might never happen. It hurt almost as much that he had imagined homes and schools and everything from the twenty-first century. Imagined bringing Sheila to meet Uncle George, maybe even his little brother. _That_ could never happen, no matter how much he wished for it. Jack had made peace with losing his old home and family.

How could the slightly more realistic UNSC version happen? Jack's sole intervention would need to bring the Covenant and the Insurrection to its knees in four or five years. And even then, it was a very big maybe.

Jack got up, started to pace. He knew what he wanted, but getting it seemed almost impossible.

But the UNSC did have some assets that the pre-Jack UNSC did not. He'd captured the two prisoners, Kitik and Irou. Jack decided to have a little chat with them. He hoped they were up.

* * *

They'd been moved to a different room. One of Commonwealth's noncom recreation rooms had been emptied out, and converted into a large cell. Every door on the ship was tough, built to hold vacuum, in case of a hull breach. It wasn't difficult to turn the rec room into an impromptu brig. Captain Wallace had done this partially because of Jack's destruction of the actual brig, and partially as a courtesy. Although Kitik and Irou were prisoners of war, that didn't mean they should be mistreated. Or even treated without respect. The UNSC was better than that.

Jack typed in his password as quietly as he could, and waited for a second. Then he frowned.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Jack spun around-he should've heard someone sneaking up behind him. Nothing.

On a holopanel attached to the wall, a small blue-green figure flared to life. It was male, broad-shouldered, in medieval knight's armor.

"Spartan-035, I asked you a question," The voice was deep and authoritative. Jack decided it annoyed him. Which was pretty fast, considering that he hadn't yet met the Commonwealth's AI replacement for Evergreen.

"My business. Not yours," Jack said.

"Considering your past record for the treatment of these prisoners, I'd say that this is very much my business," The knight crossed his arms.

Yeah, it was very freakin' annoying. No longer any doubt.

"I'm just going in for a friendly chat. If I wanted to kill them, I would've by now,"

"You've never attempted to enter their residence without at least one other person present. The fact that you're doing it at night just increases my suspicions," The AI was stern and unapologetic.

"I'm not sleeping well. Man can only take so much boredom. And this is a space ship, remember? No night or day here. Just different levels of power going to the florescent lighting and air conditioning,"

"This ship runs on Earth time-"

"Which is stupid,"

"-and you've already proven that you can't be trusted,"

Jack glared at it.

"I think I've killed enough Covies and Innies to be trusted, like, eight times over. I just want to chat with the prisoners I captured before they get transferred to ONI's loving care,"

"You don't act like the other Spartans. You've shown a blatant lack of discipline and respect for authority," It was the AI's turn to glare.

Jack felt a cold shiver down his spine. He'd been a Spartan for months, but no one had ever questioned him. Maybe the Spartans were just considered above reproach. Maybe Dr. Halsey had protected him. It didn't matter to a nosy AI-if he'd learned anything from the books, the only thing that could stop a curious AI was another AI.

"There are two possibilities, here. Either I'm an Insurrectionist who was both lucky enough to sneak in the Spartan-II program, and ruthless enough to kill dozens of my allies, or I'm someone who came to join the Spartans under unusual circumstances. If you'll look deeper in the video logs, you'll find how messed up I was following Bliss. I don't undervalue life-I wouldn't easily kill Innies, no matter how eager I was to fit in,"

Jack thought back to his first days as a Spartan. Dr. Halsey's protection.

"My past is classified Level Six. Even if a simple shipboard AI could hack that, it would be a clearly treasonous move. I would have to do everything in my power to have it deleted, even if that would be erasing it's core myself, with an assault rifle," Jack made his face as impassive and severe as the slit in the knight's helmet.

"Are you threatening me?" The voice was cold enough to freeze helium.

"Yes," Jack said without hesitation. He waited a second, for effect, then changed tack.

"I won't need to do anything if you listen to regs. Don't try to hack my file-that's my business. Not yours,"  
"You could be a threat," The AI said plainly.

"It's been decided that I'm not, by people smarter than both of us combined. We're on the same side, here," Jack exhaled, suddenly tired. "What is your name?"

"Galahad," He said. "Perhaps you should go to bed,"

Jack yawned. "I guess I shouldn't bug them, if they're asleep,"

"What were you going to talk to them about?" There was still a modicum of disapproval in Galahad's voice. Jack sighed.

"Nothing, mom,"

* * *

Jack dreamed of cruel laughter.

The ground was flat as glass and as black as obsidian, stretching out toward the horizon in all directions. Jack was in clothes from home-old jeans, dark green pullover sweatshirt, over a black Under Armor shirt. His hair was slightly longer, uncombed. Jack felt his chin-it had the smoothness of someone who had not yet shaved, or needed to.

He saw a glimmer. A round, small hole, with small tendrils of light reaching out. Jack caught of glimpse of gunmetal-green angles, a bit of gold. Force and struggle and pain. But there was also honor; strength of purpose and direction. The pride and fulfillment of overcoming impossible adversity. Brotherhood; a little joy.

He stepped forward, tentatively. He raised his hand and touched a tendril. It felt like the plastic twine that wraps around bales of hay. He reached into the center-

The earth changed color and shape. Jagged, blood-red peaks rose. The sky went from storm-gray to pitch black, with no stars or moon, but there was still light. The ground felt… harder, somehow, like it was made of diamond.

Jack felt a slight weight on his shoulders. Shoulder pads. He felt the white pants, with pads slipped into the hips, thighs, and knee pockets. A helmet appeared on his head…. Crisscrossing bars of black plastic rested over his vision.

The hole had grown-it was bigger than he was. The feelings and impressions emanating from it were still the same… but more intense. Harder, more jagged. But the joy that he saw was increased a hundredfold.

Jack reached in without hesitation.

Harder, and lighter. He felt the light, enveloping pressure of MJOLNIR armor. It was comforting, especially against the hurricane gathering on the horizon. He braced himself, and sensed, rather than saw, an opposing storm on the opposite horizon.

It was white. Pearl white, with a glimmer around the clouds. As he turned and looked on it, he heard the soft laughter of a familiar voice, the voice of a young woman.

Both storm fronts surged. Jack raised a weapon-a beautiful knife, with an inscription in Latin on one side of the long blade.

He roared as both forces struck him at the same time, felt himself disintegrating on one side, being renewed on the other. His old life evaporated under the black storm, while his soul was saved by the white.

Both raged and battled for an endless moment. Jack fought with every ounce of will to endure, but felt himself slipping. He saw the hole that had brought this on-small, pure, happy. Jack reached out a hand, but it was all he could do to survive. Jack wrenched, but the boots of his MJOLNIR armor had melted into the earth-his fingers barely slid along the tendrils.

Jack woke up in tears, his right hand still grasping for the future that could save him. He felt eyes on him… when he looked over, he saw Sheila, wide-eyed, staring at him.


	27. Chapter 27

AN: My old copy of the Fall of Reach died a natural death almost a year ago. I just bought a new one, so my set is complete once again… Except for Cryptum. Goddammit. . Hope you enjoy this; I could've executed it better, but eh.

Jack attached the shoulder pauldron with a _snap_. He wiggled it a little to make sure it was secure, before attaching the other one. Gold Team was armoring up to take down one of the cells revealed by the Innie commander's PDA on the _Waterloo_.

Next he took a screwdriver, unlatching two fin-like things on each of his lower thighs. He stuck in knee guards, turning the fins over on them, screwing them on. The boots were more complicated-there was a base, with left and right sides attached on strange-looking hinges. The top of the boot had the squarish front piece. Everything latched together in a vacuum seal reminiscent of UNSC airlock hatches before being screwed on tight. The vacuum seal section of the bottom of the ankle sections were slightly longer, and fixed under the boots, so you had to latch these on first. It was slightly easier to just have the medium-armored black bodysuit on first, then attach the corresponding ceramic armor plates, but speed wasn't an essential concern, here. Well, it was, but safety was more important than five minutes of saved prep time. Gold Team latched, fastened, and screwed on everything. One thing Jack wasn't totally comfortable with was the turtleneck. Sure, it made vacuum-sealing the neck and helmet sections a hundred percent easier, but it just felt… snobbish, somehow, even in a half-ton suit of power armor. Jack preferred casual in almost everything. Once everything was set, they started to put on their helmets.

"Wait one sec," Jack said to Sheila, striding up to her and planting a long kiss. Sheila was surprised for exactly one fiftieth of a second before reciprocating. Jorge chuckled and Li smirked.

"If you're going to do that in front of us, at least let me get a video camera so I can continue to make fun of you for it for hours and hours,"

"Laugh it up, Li," Jorge said, taking the words out of Jacks mouth, luckily, because it was rather busy.

It was a sad thing, but eventually, the couple had to come up for air. They would have continued, but there was a job to do. Jack sighed and put on his EOD helmet. Not his first choice, but the Pilot and CQB helmets hadn't been designed yet.

Gold team walked towards one of the long rooms containing the _Commonwealth's_ complement of ODST drop pods, on the bottom deck. To the right, recessed pods waited to get launched into space. To the left was Dr. Halsey, waiting to brief them.

"This cell is one of four on Reach," She said. "Thirty to forty Insurrectionists. This cell is not combat oriented-they are supply. Working out of Fort Kincaide, they've exported upwards of six hundred tons of explosives over the past eight years,"

Jack racked the slide on his assault rifle with a satisfying sound. Everyone was in full gear and armor-despite Halsey's request to go in subtly, in civilian clothes, with concealed weapons, Sheila had decided to go loud. Jorge, Li, and Sheila preferred their armor and big guns. Jack was ambivalent-he somewhat missed jeans, sidewalks, and casual conversation with civilians, but, on the other hand, he also felt a little naked without his MJOLNIR. Especially on missions.

But Sheila had a valid point-there was a limited window to deal with these cells. The rebels would eventually realize that their special ops boys had failed, and that a huge amount of intel had been lost, that they were compromised. Halsey wanted twenty-four hours to set up a proper covert sting. Sheila wanted fifteen minutes to shoot the bad guys. They needed to strike while the iron was hot, so to speak. Jack felt a little guilty, stalling the mission with his little trauma, requesting to get a couple hours of sleep. But he also had a valid point; exhausted soldiers made mistakes, and mistakes cost lives. The whole sleep thing hadn't really worked out, but still.

Jack cracked his neck. He couldn't wait to make up for it.

"One more thing," Dr. Halsey smiled. "I have some good news,"

"Ma'am?" Jorge sounded surprised. So was Jack.

"It'll just take a second. Originally, the Admiralty Board had denied my request for funding for a Spartan-II Class Two. I recently appealed, and the Board reconsidered, and accepted. I'm leaving after these raids to help train the next generation of Spartans with CPO Mendez,"

"Excellent!" Li said.

"We'll need some new brothers and sisters to win this," Jorge nodded approvingly.

Jack was stunned. This didn't happen in the books, he was sure of it. There was only one class of Spartan-IIs. The Spartan-IIIs wouldn't for at least another decade. Maybe in the comics? Jack hadn't read most of them.

"Of course, I'll have to loosen the age constrictions, to allow more candidates. Perhaps even some of the genetic constraints-we know a great deal more about augmentation, and can do it much more safely," Halsey shrugged, then smiled. "Alright, you four better go do what you do best,"

They climbed into the pods, fastened themselves in. A line of text appeared on Jack's HUD:

_ I took your advice, and pushed harder for funding. If the Spartans will save as many people as you say, then I can't afford the luxury of doubt. Thank you. –Catherine _

Jack blinked. Then he remembered a conversation with the doctor, months ago, after taking Roosevelt: _There aren't many good things in that book. But one of those things is the Spartans. They-we-are going to save billions of lives. Billions. Is that worth it?_

Jack sucked in a breath. He wasn't sure if he should feel terrible or amazed.

Terrible because he had just condemned dozens of children to kidnapping and brutality. They would be subject to years of harsh military training. They would be stripped from their families. God, their families. Their kids would be taken and replaced with clones, doomed to die of horrible neurological diseases. Those families were as big of victims as the children. He'd inspired Dr. Halsey to choose. His fault.

_But_! Those kids would become heroes. They might be enough, with the Spartan-IIIs that would come later, to turn the tide of the war for humanity. There might just be enough heroes sacrificed to see peace. And maybe… just maybe… enough to give Jack and Sheila their happily ever after.

Jack shivered. What would it cost to pay for his dream? How many people would it be worth?

How many people would he be ok with killing to make sure?

Then again… so many would be killed by the Covenant anyway. Maybe this was best, for the greater good.

The pod clicked and shuddered. Sheila's helmet appeared over a small screen.

"The pelican designated for our pickup is already outbound. I want every Innie son of a bitch dead or trussed up before it arrives!"

Jack felt like he should joke, say something, anything, to help ease the pre-mission jitters. But he couldn't think of anything. There was a cold patch in his chest, and he couldn't form the words.

"Launching in five," Sheila sounded a little… disappointed. He'd missed his cue.

Jack took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He exhaled just before the tiny pod shook and he felt free-fall.

This method of insertion was exciting and incredible before, but now it felt more like an amusement park rollercoaster after eating six cheap corndogs. Jack just breathed in and out, focusing and enduring. Trying not to throw up.

Free fall was much more fun when it was in five-second increments. Jack would wonder why later, but at that moment, he prayed.

Fort Kincaide was less like a military base and more like a huge Costco for everything military. The place was a depot anything and everything that could be used in any number of situations. It was a collection of huge square warehouses, all identical.

The drop pod hit the sidewalk just outside of the Insurrectionist-controlled warehouse, spraying gravel that used to be concrete all over. On each of the four corners of the big building, a Spartan hit. The objective was simple: No one leaves without being in restraints or a body bag.

Jack kicked the hatch out, weapon up and scanning. He saw only two people here, both with dropped jaws. He was about to order them to the ground when they reached for pistols in concealed holsters. Jack shot them both in the forehead, one round apiece. Then he switched his assault rifle to full-auto. He couldn't bet on the rest being as clueless as these two.

He ran up to the side wall of the building and slapped on an explosive pad that was a square meter of inch-thick C-12. If this wouldn't punch through the wall and give anyone inside a massive headache, nothing would. Jack took cover behind the drop pod, then hit the detonator.

He barely brought his arms up in time to stop the pod from bulldozing him, as a deafening clap of thunder launched it at him. In the distance, he heard three more. Jack jumped in, rifle up.

There were six men and four women inside, bleeding from shrapnel wounds as well as their ears. He felt for them, and reached for his plastic handcuffs.

"You would call it pragmatism, wanting to get as many sources of possible intel as possible, but I prefer to call it kindness," Jack jerked his head up to the left wall, where a large screen showed a smirking women. She was black and elegant, with big dark eyes and high cheekbones. She spoke in refined English with a French accent.

"You're late, Jack-035. I was getting bored," She said.

"How do you know my name?" Jack cuffed the nearest Innie. She wasn't an immediate threat, and he was working on a time table.

"I know everything about you, Jack Newman,"

He froze. His blood ran cold, even as a spike of adrenaline punctuated her simple statement. _No one_ knew his old last name. He hadn't said it or heard it since that day in school, so long ago.

"Your file makes for very interesting reading, I must say," She teased.

"Who the hell are you?" Jack got up and looked square at the screen.

"Ah, temper, temper. All will be revealed in time, once you work for the good guys," She licked her lips.

"I _am_ working for the good guys," Jack yelled.

"Indeed? The men and women that would torture and kill you, if they knew your past; they are good? You've never been known to tell an outright lie, Jack," She smiled.

"How do you know all this?" Jack shook those thoughts out of his head.

"As I said, once you work for us, you will know. Until then, my young friend, it will have to wait. But let us not keep your friends waiting. On the table in front of you is a combination earpiece and microphone. Put it in, and then continue your mission,"

"It'll be a cold day in hell before I take orders from the enemy," Jack growled.

"Do it, or this fascinating information regarding your recruitment into the Spartan program will be shared with our dear, good friends in the Office of Naval Intelligence. I'm sure they will find it quite interesting,"

"You're blackmailing me?"

"Obviously. You're fairly intelligent for a Spartan, Jack, and this isn't complicated. Now put the earpiece in, young man. This is no longer up for debate,"

Jack closed his eyes. This was _not good_. Jack would bet a hundred credits this bitch was getting off on this. Some people just loved power.

He staggered over to the table. He put in the earpiece. The woman's voice came from it, now, and the screen turned off.

"Perfect," She purred. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Now continue slaughtering my associates, and rendezvous with your team. Instructions will come soon,"

Jack almost took off his helmet, he wanted rub his eyes so badly. Things were going so wrong… He wished there was a mike so he could tell her to go fuck herself.


	28. Chapter 28

AN: Gotta say, I kinda like this one.

"Testing, testing, one two," A slightly mocking voice whispered in Jack's ear. "Spartan-035, get to somewhere private. We need to talk,"

Jack gritted his teeth. He was trying to sleep, _trying_ being the key word.

"Don't be stupid," An infuriatingly familiar French-accented woman chuckled from his earpiece. Jack got up and trudged to the nearest supply closet. Thanks to Sheila, he knew exactly where the nearest one was.

"I am not a patient woman, 035," She teased. Jack growled something intelligible and walked faster. He got to the supply closet and resisted the urge to slam the door behind him.

"I'm here,"

"Took you long enough," The voice pouted.

"There are recording devices everywhere. I had to get to somewhere were this can't be overheard,"

"Yes, I know. You just took your sweet time getting here," She said.

"How did you know I wasn't sleeping, like the rest?"

"I've got friends in high places," she said.

"What's your name?" Jack asked.

"You are in no position to be asking questions, my friend,"

"You want me to betray my friends, commanders, principals, and the love of my life. I think you've got less on me than you think. So, quid pro quo. You want me to cooperate, then start talking,"

"I have your life," She said, coldly.

"You must not have read my file very thoroughly, if you think that matters more than the aforementioned list, you bitch. Now, before I crush this mike into dust, _what is your name_?" Jack meant every syllable. His hand went up, ready to take out the earpiece and squish it between his index finger and thumb.

"Despite your bravado, I think you will not throw your life away… I am Brigadier General Asef,"

"You need me as much as I need you. Is Asef your first or last name?"

"My last, of course. The world outside your little team is more professional than you think," Asef said smoothly.

"What is your first name?"

"Julia," Her voice was tight, and Jack smiled. The hostage-taker was losing power over the situation, and she knew it.

"Where are you from, Julia?"

"I told you my name. Before anything else, you owe me," She said.

"I'm willing to make a concession,"

"What is the name of the _Commonwealth's_ new AI?"

"Easy. Galahad,"

"Good. Now-"

"Wow, it's my turn," Jack interrupted.

"A valiant attempt at being annoying, but alas, you will find-"

"Hey, hey. Quid pro quo, remember? Where are you from, Julia?"

"Biko," She sighed.

"You're lying, but I'll forgive you for that,"

"Thank you," she said sarcastically. "I believe it is my turn?"

"You believe correctly," Jack snickered.

"How do you plan to survive this war with your love intact?"

Jack opened his mouth, and closed it.

"What?"

"The Covenant are relentless. Even this early in the war, this is apparent. From your file… and that incredible little book of yours, we can expect three decades of conflict. It seems unlikely that either you or Spartan-132 will survive it. Even if you do, surely your hearts will be hardened irreparably by the carnage you will have witnessed. How do you plan to live and love and grow old together when you'll have spent two-thirds of your life fighting?"

"That's… that's…,"

"You won't. Which is my point. Work for me, Jack, and I will make you a sincere promise: One year of fighting for me, and I will give you the rest of your life to be with her, on a habitable frontier world the Covenant will never find,"

"Why would you do that?"

"Because the Spartans are hammering us," She said bluntly. "Putting two out of the fight would be almost as good as getting one, you, on our side,"

"You're lying," Jack said bluntly. She had to be lying. There was no alternative. This couldn't be true. This was _exactly_ what he wanted, more than anything else in the world. Not just to survive the war, but to have Sheila, far away from the conflict, their own home. It was too much to give up, too much to surrender, too much too let slip by. More valuable than his honor, his values, his duty.

"You know I am not," She murmured.

"I… I fucking hate you," Jack sagged against the wall of the closet, sliding to the floor. "This isn't fair,"

"It's not," She whispered apologetically. "It may seem hard now, but it will get better,"

"I'll need to ask her. I can't decide for us both, either way. It wouldn't be fair to her… and I can't. Fuck you for making me choose," Choose between honor and love.

"You may thank me, later," She said with a hopeful tone.

"Don't hold yer fuckin' breath,"

"There's no need to be vulgar. But you had better get ready-the intercom will tell you to gather to take down the second cell in a few moments. You muster at 0500,"

"How can you be so casual about me killing your people?" Jack growled.

"Sacrifices need to be made, Jack. You know this,"

* * *

"We take down the second cell in half an hour," Sheila grinned. "We've simulated communications from the first, so the rest don't know what happened. Business as usual. Tomorrow, we'll kill the third. We get to single-handedly end the Insurrection on Reach,"

"Medals and beers all around," Jack chuckled tiredly.

"It's rather fitting, for us to personally kick them from our home," Jorge laughed.

"Let's see how far we can punt them," Li snickered.

"Armor up, then get to the drop pods," Sheila laughed. Jorge and Li said "Yes, ma'am,"

"Ma'am, permission to speak freely?"

"How freely?" Sheila narrowed her eyes.

"Supply-closet freely," Jack grinned. Sheila thought for a moment.

"You… may," She said imperiously. Jack laughed, and moved in to kiss her. It was only for a second, but in that blessed little second, all of his problems were temporarily erased. Surprisingly, Sheila broke away first.

"We've got thirty minutes," She said.

"It takes about fifteen to armor up," Jack said.

"Let's make it twenty, to be safe. So we've got about ten minutes,"

Slowly, so she wouldn't get surprised and break something of his, Jack swept his arm behind her knees, caught her, and hefted her like a sack of potatoes. Then he kissed her again.

"Better make 'em count, then," He said, then broke into a run.

Once they were in the supply closet, they got to it.

"We can't get carried away," Jack murmured as he kissed her neck and she ran her fingers through his short hair.

"I know," Sheila whispered.

"And there was something I wanted to talk to you about,"

"Really?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Just a little hypothetical question," Jack wondered if she would buy it. If not, maybe she could help. He'd need to come clean with her, tell her his whole story, so she'd understand the nature of the blackmail… he liked the sound of that idea. This business reminded him of the load he'd been carrying. Jack wanted to get it off his chest. Maybe… after the mission, he'd tell her, whether or not she bought this.

"What is it?" There was tenderness in that moment, as they cuddled next to the janitorial equipment. Jack savored it.

"You know I love you, right?" Jack asked, suddenly worried if he was the one in the relationship that cared way more than her. What if she immediately said no to running away?

"Duh. Almost as much as I love you,"

"I doubt that very much, sweetheart," He kissed her forehead, and she seemed to glow with happiness.

"So what's this hypothetical?" She asked.

"What if we could just leave this all behind?" He blurted.

"What?" Sheila blinked.

"The Covenant, the UNSC, the Insurrection… everything. Just me, you, and some planet none of those could reach?" Jack said it in a rush.

"Well, we have an obligation….," She said slowly, but Jack saw he'd gotten her thinking.

"The galaxy would carry on without us," He said. "Just picture it. No fighting. We could start something…. Awesome. A family, maybe,"

"Wait, are you _proposing_?" Sheila burst out. "We can't… do that. We're not even fifteen! And even if we did… that, we'd still have to fight,"

Jack couldn't help it. He'd heard all of that, and he knew he should have corrected her on his meaning, but he couldn't stop himself from asking. "You think I'm asking you to marry me? Wait, you said we can't… but not that you… would you marry me, if I'd asked?"

"You aren't asking?" She said in a tiny voice, blushing.

"Well… not right now," Jack blinked.

"Oh… ok,"

"Would you, though?" Jack persisted.

"I'm not telling you unless you ask," Sheila said.

"Um… wait. What were we talking about?" Jack shook his head.

"Are you going to ask?" She said, and maybe it was Jack's ego, or imagination, but he thought he heard a sliver of hope in her question.

"Not right this second… if I did, what would you say?"

"Not until you ask," She shook her head obstinately.

"Well, I mean… wait, do you want me to ask?"

"If I told you that, it would pretty much just tell you the answer, wouldn't it?" Sheila grinned and kissed him. Jack was defeated.

"Ok, I was talking about something serious…,"

"Marriage isn't serious?"

"…But it seems to have slipped my mind," Jack frowned.

"Your hypothetical?" Sheila asked.

"Yes! That! What would you do, if we could just run away, to be together… would you do that?"

Sheila thought a moment.

"I'm almost ashamed to say it… but yes. That sounds wonderful," She had a faraway look in her eye. Jack had a suspicion that she was seeing something similar to his dream. He hoped so, anyway.

"Just us… maybe a few others. Not like, combatants, but… neighbors. Friends. People to play poker with, watch games with," Jack tried to reconcile to images in his head-MJOLNIR armor and Superbowl parties. It didn't really mesh-at least not logically. He felt Sheila shiver in his arms.

"It's impossible," She said slowly. "It can't happen, no matter how much we'd want it. Not without the Covenant and the Insurrection somehow imploding,"

"But what if, you know?" Jack pressed, and immediately regretted it, seeing the look on her face.

"If it could happen… would you go with me?" He whispered. "Would you leave it all behind?"

"That's not a good question. Why ask if it can't happen?" She looked toward the ground.

"Please… This is important to me," Jack insisted softly. "Jorge, Li, all the other Spartans… everything. If you had a choice… Would you leave it behind to be with me?"

Sheila looked him in the eye.

"Yes," She whispered. "I love you more than anything in the world. And I want to be with you for the rest of my life, even if it costs everything else,"

Jack choked up, scaring himself, just a little. He'd never been affected by anyone more than Sheila. And he'd never been so affected that it screwed his bodily functions up. There was a massive _thing_ in his throat, and he had trouble speaking for a second.

"Then I need to tell you something… I wasn't actually a replacement. This is going to be a long story...,"

"Well, you can tell me after we go take out that second cell," Sheila smiled. "We've got work to do,"

* * *

This plan was very similar to the last one. Except that the pods weren't crashing right next to the four corners of the target building-they were being shot like armored missiles into the building, all four, right in the center. This cell wasn't supply-they were front line. Intel suggested that this little frontier-town base was a staging area for both explosive terrorist attacks and armed and armored infantry raids. Sophisticated AI counterintelligence on the Innie's part had kept this area right under the UNSC's nose, a constant thorn in their collective sides, costing tens of thousands of lives and billions of credits over the last few years. Command had been very clear-no mercy. No survivors. Send a message. No one objected. Gold would land within feet of each other, back to back, covering all four sides.

Jack was almost as used to the drop pods as he had been with the school buses back home. A bumpy ride, with the same mental preparation: time to get to work. Jack cocked his rifle. It didn't matter anymore that these were just humans, not Elites or Brutes. Gold was equipped with Jack's cut-down sniper rifles. Without long barrels, and with big clips and iron sights, these had anti-armor punch and anti-infantry ease of use.

Jack closed his eyes and smiled the second before the pods crashed through the roof of the fort. He was picturing General Julia Asef's face and voice on each of the rebels he was about to slaughter.

There was a clap of grinding gravel and thunder, and Jack kicked the hatch off the pod. It flew ten feet , two Innies barely dodging it. To his left was Jorge's pod, his right, Sheila's. Li had his back.

Jack brought up his rifle and fired. The first round tore a soldier in half, and kept going, tearing through the steel wall. The second impacted an armored woman in the forehead, seemed to vaporize her head and neck in an explosion of pink and red gore. Jack switched his main weapon to his right hand, and brought up his heavy pistol with his left, and then he was locked in.

Six more men and women on his side alone died in less than two seconds. Not one shot missed-a few of Jack's off-hand shots tore off arms and legs, and demolished stomachs and chests.

One Innie brought up a rifle, shooting a burst into Jack's armored chest, which ricocheted off before Jack put two oversized rounds into his head and heart.

Two steps forward-Jack saw carnage all around. Gold was doing its job.

Jack was to sweep north, Sheila east, Jorge west, and Li south. Jack ran up and jumped-kicked the north door in with both feet, riding it down, and sliding for a couple inches while it skidded on the floor. He was in another room, smaller, with arms lockers on the far wall. Six Innie fighters were ready, and everyone opened fire. Jack juked left with the speed only an augmented and armored Spartan could pull off-the vast majority of rebel fire missed. Jack shot three of them mid-jump, and shot the rest before he came to a stop. Then he kept moving.

As he entered a walkway, a closet door opened up. An axe-the kind used to chop firewood-came down, aimed at his head. Jack dropped his pistol and caught the axe by its blade. He ripped the axe away, snatched it up by its handle, and swung it upward, neatly splitting the ribcage of the Innie, lodging the blade up by the collarbone. The lower part of the blade was just visible-most of it had diced up the rebel's entrails. Jack supported the weight of the axe and the rebel with one hand, brought both up, level with Jack's head.

Jack looked up at the Insurrectionist's face with his own distorted with rage. This was the enemy, that wanted to kill him, his friends. Wanted him to betray his sacred principals for selfish reasons. He hated this enemy more than he knew he could hate anything.

Jack saw the face of a young boy, no older than thirteen, who was trying to look back at him with his last seconds of life. Jack saw the boy's blue eyes searching for Jack's own. All he saw, Jack knew, was the cold gold of his visor. The eyes lost focus, the young face fell slack. Jack's fury went out like a light.

Everything fell apart.


	29. Chapter 29

AN: I write my best battle scenes when I'm listening to rock, with an adrenaline buzz making me pound away on my poor keyboard. I'm curious… do you guys feel that? Do you get the thunder and fire when you read my fight scenes?

The rest of the fight seemed to move faster for Jack. The adrenaline and blood-boiling wrath had faded. He picked his targets slowly and deliberately, now, ignoring the dozens of wounds that could have been avoided, If he'd kept killing without hesitation. He worked to recognize each and every rebel he encountered-most of them were armed and armored, but a disproportionate amount were far too young. They shot straight and used the available cover; they seemed half-trained. Whenever Jack someone who looked his own age or younger, he disarmed and knocked them out. When he saw a young person more toward adulthood-but still lacking armor and the razor-edge of a trained fighter-Jack shot to wound. Knees, elbows, thighs, upper arms. His guns were far too big to use in any nonlethal way, so Jack had to grab up a small-caliber pistol from a recently unconscious thirteen-year-old girl.

Jack had firearms training second only to full Spartans. His hands shook and his eyes were blurry with tears, but he still shot better than any Insurrectionist. Those eyes were still staring at him, those eyes. But he wasn't in any position to curl up and cry; this was still an Insurrectionist base, he was still surrounded by the enemy, and he still had a job to do.

His motion sensor picked up something new-in the next room, there were over a dozen contacts. He stopped for an instant. The solution was obvious-crack the door, lob a grenade, and charge in. But what if there were kids in there, playing soldier? He couldn't just kill them all…

Jack paused a moment and pulled up a schematic of the building. The room he stood outside of was a giant supply closet. One way in and out. On the motion tracker, it was plain to see that the people inside knew that, and had planned to use the single opening as the choke point, shoot anyone who comes in.

A little rummaging through the room he'd just cleared, and Jack found a colored pad of paper, with adhesive along one side. Kind of like a king-size pad of Post-It notes. He stuck the note to the wall. Jack found a pen and scribbled:

_Merry Christmas. This room is sealed up, full of potential Innies. Use knockout gas, then tie them up. ONI should like that. –Spartan 035. _

Jack was glad he had some thermite paste. He smeared tiny amounts all around the door's frame. Then he polarized his visor to maximum, and activated it. It glowed dully behind the visor as it burned three times hotter than molten lava. When it was done, the door was effectively welded shut.

ONI would appreciate the gift, even if they were just grunts. Maybe they would survive interrogation, go to prison. Hell, if they were minors, they might just go to juvie before getting sent to a good foster home. The thought banished a little of the mountain of unspeakable guilt that was eating at him, no matter how unlikely it seemed. There were no happy endings here.

And that made Jack think of Asef's offer, which was just that. It wasn't a temporary solution. It wasn't a quick fix. It was a permanent solution. If they left the UNSC, it would be leaving the fate of the human race to chance. It would be throwing away everything-abandoning the UNSC to Covenant plasma.

But. Jack knew he was already making a difference. Assuming that Dr. Halsey's Class II worked out, the number of Spartans could double within ten years. Add that to Ackerson's Spartan IIIs, later, and things might turn out differently. If he gave up all his knowledge… everything that he kept hidden, out of fear that someone might track it back to the source… then ran, it could turn the tide. Of course, 'might' would not be anywhere close enough. This was his _species_ that he was gambling with, after all.

The crux of the matter was Sheila. She'd answered positive to a hypothetical question, but still, it wasn't the same as the real thing. He'd still feel like he'd tricked her into it. So would she, he knew.

Jack resolved to tell her everything, like he almost had back on the _Commonwealth_.

Until then, he checked his ammo, shot some biofoam into his wounds. Then he got back to work.

* * *

Immediately after getting back in orbit, Gold Team hit the showers. They were basically communal and coed, but with dozens of curtains, for privacy's sake. Jack was thankful for that. He knew he didn't have to worry about Li, but he didn't like the idea of Jorge checking out his naked girlfriend, which was denied even to himself until recently. Jack showered separate from Sheila. He had a tendency to get carried away with his hormones, and his pants needed to not be tight to the point of cutting off circulation, at least for the next few minutes. They couldn't have gotten away with anything R-rated with Jorge and Li right there, anyway.

Debriefing was easy, with a slight undertone of congratulations, as well as some basic information on the third cell. Dr. Halsey talked to them about the second class of Spartans. She confirmed the rumor that someone was going to help train them-need Spartans to train Spartans, right? They were pulling someone off of the front right away. The next class was going to be training right below their feet, on Reach, where everyone else had. Sheila, Jorge, and Li liked that a lot. Jack felt like he was missing out on something; he didn't have the attachment to Reach that the rest of Gold had.

Afterward he took Sheila's hand and wordlessly led her to a supply closet. When they got inside, she immediately kissed him, apparently looking to get carried away. Jack was horribly tempted-adrenaline and testosterone didn't mix well-but he knew that he'd actually had something to do.

"I came here to talk, sweetheart," He said sadly.

"Goddammit," She murmured. "Am I that ugly?"

"What?" Jack blinked.

"I know I'm not that good-looking. But you know, not _that_ not good-looking," She shrugged with some unknowable female emotion.

"Wait, wait… are you telling me that you don't know how you look?"

"Well, most people look at me like a freakin' giant. I got called Zena two days ago. I don't even know what it means," She tried to smile and failed.

"To them, we're _all_ giants. That's beside the point," Jack chuckled and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"I'd prefer to be a pretty giant, at least,"

"Ok, I'm totally shocked. What happened to the tough, drill-sergeant, ball-tearing kick-ass woman that I'm in love with?"

"Hey, if you don't want me to open up to you, I'm fine with that," She sounded offended, and just a little hurt.

"I'm teasing you, sweetheart… do you actually think you're anything but stunningly beautiful?" Jack asked, and she scoffed.

"Listen to this, then: you are the most beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous woman I've ever seen," He spoke slowly, looking her right in the eye. "You make the stars look like broken glass. You turn a full moon into a crappily cooked pancake. You transform a bundle of roses into a tumbleweed; beauty is relative, and yours is so powerful it turns the rest of the world gray in comparison. The contrast of your dark hair and pale face is like the contrast between night and the rising sun. I love you,"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Jack kept on staring into her eyes-he wouldn't look away until she did. Jack smiled, and her eyes watered. Then she kissed him.

"I think I won that one," He chuckled softly.

"I don't deserve you," Sheila mumbled, and he sobered up.

"I'm nothing special,"

"You're such a… good person. You care about stuff people don't. You're so kind it makes us all look like assholes,"

"I killed a kid today," He said.

"What?"

"I killed a little boy. Younger than we are... twelve. He ambushed me with an axe. I damn near cut him in half with it," Jack closed his eyes and trembled. "I took his wallet-his name was Samuel Bismark. He had two different library cards… what kind of goddamn kid has two library cards…?" Jack didn't realize he was crying until Sheila hugged him. She pulled them to the floor and held him. Jack let the dam burst. A few minutes later, he pulled himself together.

"I have something to say,"

"Anything," She whispered.

"Maybe you should go to the other side of the room,"

"Why?"

"Remember Li's… thing? Mine's probably worse," Jack cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. Sheila frowned, but pulled away, crossing her legs. Waited.

"I'm… not a Spartan," Jack said, finally.

"Well… I know you're a replacement. But that doesn't mean you aren't one of us…,"

"Halsey told me replacements were usually between twenty-four and thirty-five. Only veteran Special Forces operators have the training to even do half of what Spartans do-only a handful of them met the genetic requirements. I'm your age. Ever thought about that?"

"Um… no. But we're all fourteen, Jack. It didn't seem too unusual to have a replacement at our age,"

"It isn't normal to kidnap kids and turn them into super-soldiers," Jack shook his head. "It's illegal as all hell. It's wrong. If it weren't for the Covenant… there's no other way to justify it, but to prevent extinction,"

"So… how are you here?" Sheila asked.

"I…," He started. "I'm trying to think of a way to say it so I don't sound crazy. Not much luck, so far,"

Sheila just stared at him.

"Ah… yeah. Dr. Halsey's in on it, too. Do you doubt her sanity?"

"No," Sheila said slowly.

"Then let's go get her-it'll sound more believable," _And I can't stand you looking at me like that._

Jack led Sheila to Dr. Halsey's office, half-jogging. He hesitated at the door before knocking.

"Why do you always do that?" Sheila asked.

"I don't know. I was raised to," Jack shrugged helplessly.

"She probably can't hear-"

"It's open!" A muffled voice called from the other side of the door.

Jack chuckled nervously as they went in.

"Ah, hello, you two," Dr. Halsey said absent-mindedly as she typed at her desk.

"Hello, doctor. Um… how secure is this room?" Jack scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"As secure as I could get it, Jack. Which is very sure. Are you looking to discuss things away from the prying ears of ONI?"

"Away from all prying ears, actually,"

"Well, you'll find no better place for that than here. Have a seat," She looked up at Sheila and smiled, like she knew. "Is this going to be a one-on-one chat?"

"No. I'm telling her everything,"

The doctor's eyebrows rose at his certainty. "If you wish to bring her into the fold, then I would like you to remember that this is our secret, not just yours,"

"I know. I'm still going to tell her. But there's something new that you should hear, too. I'd like your input,"

"Very well," Jack heard a little uncertainty in her voice. She wasn't used to being in the dark.

"Well… could you tell Sheila my story? She's more likely to believe it coming from you,"

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Sheila snapped, and Jack smiled.

"I wouldn't be so certain," Dr. Halsey smiled. "She hasn't bonded with anyone like this before. I've known her-that is, you, Sheila-since she was a young child. She's opened up to you in a meaningful way. Don't demean that,"

"I know. But you seem like the one least likely to go batshit crazy, which suits this nicely, because my story _is_ batshit crazy. You're an authority. She'll believe you,"

"I would believe you too," Sheila said.

"I… know," Jack said falteringly. "But you would doubt me for a minute, which would really suck,"

"Maybe… I don't know. Just spit it out. What don't I know?" Sheila looked at Dr. Halsey.

"Sheila, from your studies you'll have remembered something called the 'multiverse' theory. The theory that there are an infinite number of parallel universes, some of which are only different by the tiniest detail. Right?"

"Yes?" Sheila frowned, not getting it. Jack didn't blame her-he barely got it.

"Well, Jack is proof of the theory. He comes from a parallel universe, one similar to our own. His universe is set back five hundred years from our own, with one more glaring difference: in Jack's home, the UNSC, Covenant, Insurrection, and everything else here is fictional, expressed in books, graphic novels, and video games. Jack arrived here by a means that we don't know of-he arrived right when the rest of you were getting augmented. In a top-secret ONI facility, with no way out. If he'd been captured, he would have been tortured and killed-the Office of Naval Intelligence is not kind to spies, especially not to spies in their most secret program. Jack fit the genetic requirements for augmentation; it was the only way out,"

Sheila stared.

"I told you," Jack said miserably.

"Sheila, you have to remember," Dr. Halsey said. "That this is top-secret. If this was discovered by ONI, then Jack would die. This is our secret, and now you're in on it,"

"Are you ok?" Jack asked nervously.

"I'm fine. Just wondering if this is some crazy dream,"

"That was my first reaction, too," He chuckled humorlessly. "It'll pass,"

"Now, what did you want to tell me, Jack?" Halsey asked.

"The Insurrectionists know," He said.

"What?"

"They know the secret, have the files. If I don't do what they say, they'll release them to ONI," Jack sighed.

"What did they tell you to do?" Dr. Halsey asked, and Jack thought he heard just a sliver of fear in her voice. What was she thinking?

"I wouldn't budge. So they made an offer. Me and Sheila. We can escape the war, go somewhere that the Covenant and UNSC will never find," Jack looked at Sheila, who was wide-eyed.

"Well, the UNSC does have several ark contingencies planned," Halsey murmured. "If things don't go well in the war, colony ships will be made. It's obvious that the Covenant want nothing less than our destruction. The ships would get sent far out of UNSC space… each one with all our collected history and knowledge, supplies, and a viable breeding population. The records of where these colonies would be would be erased, to stop the Covenant from ever finding them,"

"Would that work?" Sheila asked.

"The galaxy is a far bigger place than our minds can comprehend," Halsey said. "There are millions of hiding places that the Covenant would never think to look for. The Insurrection either has similar plans, or can sneak you in one of the UNSC ones. More likely, they would just take you to one of their hidden colonies that are already established. The arks are just obscure plans for the future, after all,"

"So… what are you going to tell them?" Dr. Halsey asked. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"That's not up to me," He looked at Sheila, who was staring at the ground, thinking.


	30. Chapter 30

AN: Goddamn, I've had issues with putting out new chapters, haven't I? A week sick, finals, moving, getting temporarily booted out of college. Don't ask. But there's also been a general malaise. And for that, I apologize. General MB told me, a while ago, that unless a story had a clear ending, then it would trail away into ridiculous obscurity, making less and less sense, becoming less and less fun to write(and read). He's totally right. This chapter was supposed to be the huge grand finale, but... technical difficulties. I chopped it up-here's part one. I've already planned out what I'll do after this story is done. Several separate plans, actually. If you want to give me some advice about the future, let me know.

"Gold Two, in position," Jack whispered. His motion sensor showed two contacts, five meters out. From the second story, deep in the shadows of a half-constructed warehouse, Jack was hard to spot. People tended to look out and to the sides, but not up. Even if they had, Jack had both the cover of thick darkness and the bright floodlights. It had to play hell with their night vision.

"Gold Three, in position," Jorge's voice said on the team's channel.

Despite ONI's best efforts, it seemed that the third cell had realized they were now alone on Reach. They'd gone from sleepy to full-alert in the last couple hours, and patrols were out in force. In case they'd learned how the last two cells were taken out, the battle plan had changed. Instead of dropping in the center of the base, like the last two times, Gold Team had stealthily landed miles away, and snuck in separately. There was a Spartan posted on each side.

"Roger that. Archer away," Captain Wallace said over the radio.

"Hang on to your teeth, people," Sheila whispered.

Jack knew he should be clinging to his building for dear life, but he just couldn't resist taking a look. With his Spartan-enhanced vision, he could just barely make out the _Commonwealth, _floating in orbit. A few seconds, and Jack could see a pinprick of light coming from it. It slowly grew larger and larger, then blotted out the ship. Three seconds later, Jack saw it stream towards the center of the Innie base, detonating in a blinding blast, followed by a deep rumbling in the concrete outside, fracturing it in a spider web pattern.

If the Innies had known about the last base's destruction, then they probably would have prepared to handle something like it, and massed their soldiers and defenses near the center, where Gold Team dropped in on the last base. But instead of four armored Spartans near their base's center of gravity, they'd gotten a missile designed to crack armored ships in half. Jack saw the roiling fireball erupt just over the roofline of the buildings to the north.

The contacts on Jack's motion sensor moved toward the explosion, ostensibly to help out. Jack peeked out and shot them in the back. Narq darts. But effective enough. Jack ran out, used some plastic handcuffs to secure them to a streetlight, and threw their weapons out of reach.

Then Jack headed to the interior of the base. After that missile, he really just expected to mop up the remaining idiots. He heard a sighing sound, and saw a flash in his peripheral vision. Not knowing what else to do, Jack instinctively jumped as high as he could. A second later, a rocket-propelled grenade impacted the ground under him. His armored legs were peppered with gravel. He hit the ground with his gun up and scanning.

"Goddammit! Ambush!" To his left, a heavy machine gun opened up. Jack sprinted towards the nearest cover-the building he'd already been making for. Heavy-caliber rounds chewed up the concrete behind him. As he ran, Jack juked left and right, making it virtually impossible to get a bead on him. He was safe from snipers, for the moment, but that chain gun didn't need to aim to hit him. As he sprinted, a round hit him in the upper arm, punching through his armor and flesh and clanging against the hardened bone with a jarring ache. Another hit him in the foot midstride. It didn't have the power to break through the MJOLNIR, but it did have the force to make Jack stumble, and that slowed him down enough to get hit with another burst.

Seven shots smacked into him-two of which punctured. One holed his thigh, and the other slid right by his chestplate, pounding through his lung. Jack gasped, but redoubled his speed. If he didn't reach that cover, he'd be dead. With his good arm, he unslung his assault rifle, which he'd stupidly decided to have in normal caliber, and fired blindly as he ran.

It bought Jack the second and a half he needed to dive through the safety glass of the revolving door. Once inside, he scrambled to his feet and kept going deeper. Once he was safely covered by shadow, Jack took out a can of biofoam and shot it into a port into his armor. He gasped with the cold pressure that filled up his lung, and had to reach deep for breath. Half of his left lung was lunchmeat. Jack leaned against a blackened beam and sucked down as much oxygen as he could.

This was the base. It wasn't a depot, like the first one, or the apparent training facility, like the second. It was supposed to be a bomb manufacturing center. Almost identical to its UNSC counterparts, except that the military-grade C-12 it produced wasn't heading for the Covenant. It was aimed at the civilians the Innies claimed they were trying to free. It seemed that a good deal of the ordnance on standby had gone up-Archer missiles had shaped charges. The blast would have gone more down than out, not doing nearly this much damage. Lucky.

The further in Jack got, the more apparent it was that this place had been completely jacked up by the Archer missile, and the secondary explosions. The walls were blackened by soot, and some of them were in pieces. Every now and then Jack came across an Innie. Most of them, early on, were alive. A few of the conscious ones saw Jack and tried to shoot him. Jack put some of them out for their misery-others, he shot up with the biofoam he had left, which wasn't a lot. He used most of the canister on himself, or he wouldn't have made it nearly this far.

Despite nearly getting a foot-wide RPG hole blown in him, and having some of his guts turned to ground beef, this was probably the easiest mission so far. Almost no resistance. A lot of bodies. Jack wondered what their last second was like. Was it really just a flash of light and and then, poof? Gone? Lights out, back to whatever you were before you were born? Jack remembered one time in football practice, he'd been steamrolled by some 'roidasaurus three times his size. He woke up on the grass. But he didn't remember the actual hit. Did they feel anything? And what about _after_? What the hell would _oblivion_ feel like?

Jack shook his head and got back to work.

"It doesn't pay to be sentimental, my young friend," Asef whispered in his ear.

"Goddamn, you are so annoying sometimes," Jack growled as he felt for a pulse in a young woman's neck. Nothing. Some of these guys were badly burnt, but some of them looked just like they were sleeping.

"Time is running out for you to choose, Jack,"

"I know. You'll have an answer soon enough," A gunshot rang out, and Jack's helmet jerked an inch to the side. With ease, he jumped over and kicked the pistol out of an Innie's hand. Then he grabbed some bandages. Old-fashioned medicine still had its merits.

"You have twenty-four hours,"

"Bye," Jack sighed. He moved fast and patched up the guy on the ground as best he could. Plugged the holes, antiseptic on the burns. He didn't have an IV or blood bags or anything more useful on him, but this bit of help could turn the odds in the man's favor. You never knew.

"Ah!" The rebel clenched his teeth as his burns were treated.

"Settle down. This is hard enough," Jack said. The Innie reached for a knife. Jack swatted it away. The Innie pulled the pin on a grenade-Jack snatched it up and pitched it far away, where it exploded with a dull _thump_. Another grenade. Same. Another-Jack grabbed it, held it to the man's face for a split second under three seconds, and _then_ threw it. This time it was close enough to see the angry red flash of light, and bits of shrapnel pinged off of Jack's armor. Jack sighed.

"Do something like that again, and I'll let you bleed out. I'm serious," Jack grabbed the last grenade and stuck it to a magnetic holster on his hip.

"What… what are you doing?"

"I'm saving your stupid ass, for some reason. You're welcome," Jack finished wrapping the gauze, taped it up, and stood up. "You'll be fine until ONI arrives. Don't fight them. Be polite. This battle is already over,"

"Why are you helping me? I mean… thanks… but…,"

"We might not have been on the same side a few months ago, but now we are, whether you admit it or not. It's humanity versus Covenant. We can't afford to disagree on our government when our species is at stake. And if we don't fight for each other, we might as well be glassed,"

"You prepared that speech beforehand, says twenty credits," Asef chuckled as Jack started to jog in towards the center of the wreckage. He turned off his helmet's speakers so the wounded Innie wouldn't hear.

"Go… _fuck_… yourself," Jack said to Asef.

"Should I take that as a rejection of our offer?"

"I'm not going to beg. And I'm not going to whine-I'm undecided right now. If you want to save me some time and choose for me, go right ahead, you cockmongling queefburger," Jack said this slowly and calmly. Asef only laughed.

"Quite creative, Jack. You should have been a writer,"

"Sure as hell would have been easier," He muttered.

* * *

There wasn't a chance to talk on the Pelican ride home. Even with Jorge and Li there, they could have gotten a private com channel. But it wouldn't have felt the same. Sheila spent most of the trip hunched over, apparently thinking. Jack kept fidgeting, which looked more like minor seizures with the force-amplifying circuits of the MJOLNIR armor. Just before the Pelican dropped to the deck of the Commonwealth's shuttle bay, Jorge and Li exchanged a look.

Without a word, Jack and Sheila joined hands and left the Pelican together, heading for the nearest supply closet. Once they were in and the door was shut, the couple removed their helmets and kissed. Jack felt warm relief replace the cold anxiety.

"I'm not sure if I should take that as an answer," He whispered with a smile. "And if I did, what the answer would be,"

"It means 'I love you'," Sheila said. "But no, that wasn't an answer,"

"So what is?"

"I thought it over so much it gave me a freaking migraine. I even thought about running away from both sides of the equation, UNSC and otherwise. Me and you, stealing a prowler, fighting for the UNSC as mercenaries. Earning a living fighting Covenant, while still being free from ONI. But so much could go wrong with that plan. There were too many unknowns for it to ever work,"

"I know," Jack sighed. "I gotta admit, though, it has a certain appeal,"

"So I kept thinking, and thinking, but it kept going back to the guys. 'What would they think if we just ran off?' I could handle ditching the UNSC. I hate to admit it, but I could probably handle ditching our Spartan brothers and sisters, even all the civilians on every world. But Jorge? Li? Those guys would be devastated, and ONI would investigate their asses off. Make sure they didn't know anything about it. So… yeah. That's my answer,"

"What is? That ONI would investigate the guys? Or that you could handle leaving everything behind?" Jack frowned.

"My answer is that we can't leave without letting the guys know. They need to understand what's going on," Sheila said.

"So… that's a conditional yes?" Jack was just trying to leave absolutely no doubt in either of their minds.

"Yes," Sheila said with trepidation.

Jack slowly exhaled, and all of the moment came crashing down on him. He had actually been blackmailed by an Insurrectionist officer; he'd been offered the chance to run away with Sheila, away from the war and the death; they were going to accept. Jack scratched the ear that he usually kept the earpiece in; it felt weird to have it not in. But this conversation, as well as their conversation with Dr. Halsey, was going to be absolutely private.

"It'll lead them to your story," Sheila said.

"What do you mean?"

"They'll want to know why you're blackmailed, and what with. They have a right to know," She sighed.

"I know. They do. We'll tell them the whole thing," Jack sighed, and looked down. "Will things ever get any easier?"

"I know they will," Sheila said firmly. "Once we get the nasty stuff over with,"

Jack nodded. He didn't really believe her, but if she was solid, so was he. He wouldn't be left behind. "Let's get this over with," He opened the closet door to see Jorge and Li standing outside, eyes hard.

"Eavesdropping, huh?" Sheila shook her head in disappointment.

"You've got some explaining to do," Li said carefully. Jorge grunted and nodded. Jack sighed.

"Alright, come in. Take a seat," He sighed.

"If I heard correctly," Jorge sat down cross-legged, next to a bucket. "Then you two are planning on leaving," He eyed them warily.

"You heard right," Jack said.

"What, getting a transfer? Thanks a bunch, guys. Appreciate it," Li scowled.

"I'd figured us as a good team," Jorge rumbled.

"We are, big guy," Sheila said. "We're the best out there. Which is why the Insurrection decided to blackmail Jack to break us up,"

"_What_?" Li exclaimed.

"They have intel on my past. Good intel. There are… issues. If ONI's attention gets drawn to them, then they'll take me apart to figure things out. I'd be quietly disposed of in pieces," Jack said soberly.

"And they want both of you to leave?" Jorge asked.

"At first, they wanted me to come work for them. When I politely told them that I'd rather be dropped naked on a moon crawling with hungry Jackals than betray you guys, the deal got adjusted. Me and Sheila can leave, head off on some backwater homestead, and grow old together far from the Covenant,"

"I understand that the adjusted offer would be more palatable than openly fighting the UNSC, but…," Jorge trailed off, and his eyes drifted to Jack's and Sheila's hands, tightly holding on to each other. "You've gotten serious, then?"

"As serious as we can get, considering the circumstances," Jack said.

"That's romantic, and all that, but how could you guys think about leaving without telling us?" Li demanded.

"This isn't exactly something that can get out on the rumornet, Li," Jack sighed. "But you're right, we should've told you,"

"If you don't mind my askin'," Jorge scratched his chin, "What were they blackmailing you with?"

"Well, first off, they haven't blackmailed me. They _are_ blackmailing me. Present tense," Jack rubbed his eyes. "And… well…,"

"It's kind of hard to explain," Sheila glanced at Jack. "Now I know how you felt, telling me,"

"Huh. Think we should go back to Dr. Halsey?" Jack asked her.

"If she's not already packed up and gone. Next generation of Spartans, remember?" Jorge said.

"Oh, yeah, right," Jack sighed. "Well, maybe we should-"

The door opened suddenly, and a tiny pale woman stepped in the closet. Jack blinked away the sudden light and saw Dr. Halsey.

"Hope I'm not interrupting a team moment," She said as she sat down between Jorge and Li on the opposite wall. She looked ridiculously small compared to them. "But I've got some news,"

"Er, ok-," Jack sputtered.

"Since these closets are primarily reserved for private moments between intimates, and because the last camera footage before you all entered showed Jorge and Li listening at the door, I presume that you've been confronted, and are telling your friends the truth?" Halsey said.

"Uh, yeah-,"

"Do they understand what you're being blackmailed with?"

"Um, not yet-,"

"Good. It's your choice, of course, but extending the circle of trust is always risky… you were just about to tell them, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Jack said. Dr. Halsey sighed.

"I've just been gathering my things. I leave in a few hours. But I discovered the solution to your problem,"

"You did?" Jack sat up straighter.

"It was difficult-but with some help from Galahad, I-"

"-You brought Galahad in on this?" Jack groaned.

"Without the processing power of a latest-generation AI, this would have impossible, yes. We found the narrow-band signal coming to and from the earpiece you were given. It took Galahad several hours to decrypt, and my own considerable ability to use unscrupulous methods, but we figured it out. We know the location of the signal: A small two-bedroom apartment in Ütközet. I can't tell if it's just bouncing the signal from somewhere else, or if it's the actual location of this Julia Asef. But even if it isn't, it should yield some clues to her whereabouts,"

"That's great! We can show her what happens to people who mess with Spartans," Jack got up with a grin.

"But how are we going to do it?" Sheila asked. "We can't just go AWOL. We'd need the Captain's permission to take a Pelican. He'd need a legitimate reason to give to Command,"

Halsey grinned and pulled a metallic disk out of her pocket.

"I've handled it all," Galahad said as he appeared on the holographic projector. "The fictional Admiral Gazich has sent his orders-to neutralize the fourth cell, evidence of which was discovered during the attack on the third,"

"Wow. I didn't think you'd ever be on my side," Jack said.

"I'm not. I'm on the UNSC's side, even if I have to be discreet about it. You and your girlfriend are valuable assets; you can't just go and run off into your own fairy tale,"

"It was fun to dream, anyway," Sheila grunted.

"Yeah," Jack sighed. He swore he'd make the bitch pay for that. For trying to manipulate him. Especially for almost succeeding.


	31. Chapter 31

AN: It's over. Damn. My first finished story. I think I did alright. Let me know. Also if you want a sequel.

Once the one-hundred-eighty pound portable weapons locker was secure to the Pelican's storage locker, Jack straightened up and looked to his leader.

"Ma'am, permission to speak freely?" He asked Sheila.

"Granted," Sheila looked a little confused at the formality. Her helmet covered her face, but her head was cocked at the angle that Jack had learned corresponded perfectly with her _I-don't-like-surprises_ face.

"I'd like to have tactical command of this mission. I understand that both of us are pissed, but Asef chose me to fuck with. I want to be a… leader, in this mission, not just another pawn she thinks she can manipulate,"

"When we bust her door down with our pinkies, I don't think she'll think less of you for not being in charge," Sheila said guardedly.

"I just want to show her that I'm not a little piece in a big world. That I'm above that now. And… I guess, I want to show myself that, too," Jack shrugged. Sheila sighed.

"Alright, you can have command of this mission. Just don't let it get to your head,"

"Thanks, sweetheart," Jack said. "Could you let the others know?"

"Alright," She opened a team channel on the com. "I hereby relinquish command of Gold Team to Jack-035, for the duration of this mission. Answer to him, not me,"

"Got it," Jorge said.

"Affirmative," Li said, though with more confusion in his voice. Jack sucked in a deep breath and put on his best shit-eating grin.

"Alright boys and girl, five minutes to launch," He said in his best football coach/drill sergeant voice. "We're going in fast. This Pelican will get us to the twenty-fifth floor, where we jump through the window. We stick together, moving toward the transmitter. Navy boys will knock out all non-UNSC communication, as well as handle anyone trying to get away by air. Marines will set up roadblocks. This is going to be a blitz, but we aren't trying to finish them off. I want General Asef bound, gagged, strung up by her ankles, and delivered to the _Commonwealth_ in one piece. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Gold said.

"Once we're inside the perimeter, weapons free. But be very selective. This is a civilian apartment complex-maybe none of them are Insurrectionists, maybe all of them are. Shoot to wound, and that's only if you're sure that they aren't on the level. ONI will process them after we're gone. The transmitter is on the twenty-fifth floor. We'll head straight to it, as fast as we can. Once we've got Asef, our next waypoint is the roof. A Pelican will be waiting there for evac,"

"This isn't a typical mission, and Asef isn't someone to underestimate. Be ready for anything," Jack cracked his neck. Then he opened a private channel to Sheila.

"How'd I do?" He asked, with just a little nervousness.

"Perfect," She said, and Jack heard a grin in her voice.

"Thanks," He chuckled as Gold climbed into the back of the Pelican. They stuck their weapons in the overhead compartments and strapped in.

A second later, the Pelican shuddered and took off. It lurched from Commonwealth's shuttle bay, and dove straight down. After that, the engines all but cut out. Gravity would do the hard work. And if they went too fast, they'd burn up in Reach's atmosphere. Maneuvering thrusters made tiny adjustments to their vector-then they were on a perfect, almost vertical path to the Hepman Brothers Apartments.

After an uneventful couple minutes, nose thrusters kicked on, and the Pelican was belly-diving toward the tall building. Air resistance slowed them down a great deal, but that wasn't enough. Jack's heart got sucked towards his ass as the engines kicked on. The gee forces were uncomfortable, but hardly dangerous, even for normal humans.

"Be ready to bail in ten seconds, Spartans," The pilot said. Everyone unbuckled and got ready.

"I'll go first," Jack said. "Then Sheila, Jorge, and Li,"

The Pelican slowed to a stop, its tail end not three feet from the big windows of the twenty-fifth floor. The hatch slid open. Jack gritted his teeth, temporarily shut off his radio, and turned off his helmet speakers. No one could hear him as he screamed.

"_This was a really stupid idea_!" Starting at the door to the cockpit, Jack got a running start and jumped off of the end of the hatch, launching himself like a cannonball through the pane of tinted glass and into the room. Jack landing on his hands, and curled into a roll, springing to his feet with his pistol up. He was surprised to see a young couple who had been eating at the dining room table, which was now covered in glass. They looked absolutely stunned, staring at the seven-foot super-soldier who had interrupted a pleasant lunch at home.

"Uh, sorry about that," Jack said, immediately embarrassed. "Um…,"

Sheila jumped through next, rolling to her feet and pointing her rifle at the couple. "On your knees!"

"Relax," Jack said to her. "Guys, I'm very sorry about this. I'll pay for the damages, later, but there's some very urgent UNSC business here,"

"I-in the d-dining room?" The woman stuttered.

Jorge jumped in, landing solidly on his feet. The impact shook the glass shards on the ground.

"Hands up!" He growled.

"No… Goddammit," Jack sighed and tipped Jorge's barrel down. Then Li jumped in, and Jack groaned.

"Let's move out," Jack barked at the squad before turning to the couple. "Once again, you have my sincere apologies,"

Jack hefted his massive assault rifle-fifteen .45 caliber armor-piercing rounds per second-in his right hand and put his magnum-narq darts-in his left hand. He stepped out into the hall, weapons scanning from the left to the right. There was an elderly man stepping out of an elevator to his right, completely stunned. Jack stopped himself the microsecond before apologizing. A NAV point appeared, two hundred meters forward and to the right.

"As far as I can tell, that's where the transmitter is," Galahad said over the team comm. "Be careful. There are several plausible ways that this could be a trap,"

"You heard the man," Jack said as they sprinted toward the point. "No heroics. I want you all to be ready to bail at a moment's notice,"

"Yes, sir," They said.

Jack met his first door and jumped at it with both feet forward, crashing it in and landing on the slightly warped metal. Nothing but another hallway, with apartments on either side. Gold Team kept running.

This was taking too long. Every second they spent dicking around was a second that they could lose the element of surprise. If they ever had surprise on their side. Jack mentally kicked himself for being so stupid with that couple before. Who knew? Asef was smart enough and resourceful enough to hack ONI's highest echelons. Smart enough to dangle the carrot of all goddamn carrots over Jack's head and expect him to obey like a freakin' trick pony. Who knew? She might be smart enough to anticipate this. Hell, if she knew him well enough to know his deepest, darkest wish, then of course she was smart enough to know that he'd find a way to get some payback.

This whole operation was starting to smell like a trap. Jack shook his doubts aside and kicked another door in, assault rifle up and scanning, left to right-

Then a sledgehammer rammed into his gut, knocking the wind out of him. The shotgun's pellets knocked him back a step, but none were big enough to penetrate his armor.

_Need more firepower than that to kill a Spartan_, Jack snarled internally. But the shotgun was only a small factor; the only things fast enough to shoot first in a Spartan-level shootout were Spartans, Elites, and those crackheads from the _Waterloo_. Jack was groaning even before his rifle finished scanning left, finding a heavily armored Insurrection answer to super-soldiers.

The freak was racking the slide for another shot, when five rounds from Jack's rifle took his head off; helmet, skull, and brain. Jack kept sweeping the room, but it was empty. Just some hexagonal metal plates, for some reason. Jack wondered how he'd pull off a defensive formation inside a closed building. He wouldn't mass his guys into small spaces-he'd spread them out, giving them some mobility. They were getting close. Jorge and Li started to move toward the door opposite, but Jack stopped them with a raised hand.

"Behind the doorframe," He whispered. "Now!"

The Spartans scuttled back into the previous room, just in time. Five more Insurrectionists, moving jerkily and far too quickly, rushed in from the opposite side.

Jack grinned. Even though this was not a good situation at the moment, he knew that it was better for the longer-term of the mission. Asef was a coldhearted bitch, sure, but only so many resources could be expended on a feint. These soldiers were only used one other time that the UNSC knew of-on the _Waterloo_. They weren't exactly common. Asef _had_ to be here.

Jack pulled the pin on a grenade, activating a three-second timer on his HUD at the exact same time. Jorge eyed the grenade, and Jack nodded.

"Spread out!" A harsh voice barked, faster than a normal human would have.

Damn. Jack had liked his little nugget of an idea. Still, at least there would be minor wounds and a distraction. Jack waited until there was a sixteenth of a second left on the timer, then hurled the grenade. It flew about six feet-right between the Innies, hanging in midair, before exploding.

Jack used his next trick-he gripped both sides of the steel doorframe and used his strength to catapult himself forward like a wrecking ball on meth. He tackled the one closest to the opposite door-head low, hands in his armpits, and feet churned under him. Just like in football, back home. Except having pads that weighed half a ton was only a dream, back then.

He drove the Innie through the open door, to the perpendicular hallway outside, where he slammed him into the wall with enough force to break most of the bones in his upper abdomen. He was out of the fight.

Just like he'd planned-the other freaks had been so stunned by the tackle, their eyes following the gray-green blur automatically, that they had been in the perfect position for Gold Team to mop them up in milliseconds.

Jack didn't like killing people; he was merciful whenever circumstance allowed him to be. But these guys weren't grunts to tie up and leave for ONI. If he'd been anything less than lethal, they would have gained the advantage. Better to kill them than to risk his friends.

But there was a flaw in his tactics. Now he was out in the hallway, alone, with no cover. A round that was too heavy to be anything but a sniper shot zoomed three inches from his stomach.

"Shit!" Jack dove back into the room, by all the Innie commando corpses. From where he was, he could see the guy he'd tackled. The force of the impact had warped the steel wall enough that his mangled shoulders were sunken into it. He stayed there, like a snowball that had hit a brick wall and stuck.

Jack crackled his knuckled. He was torn between loving his strength, and hating his willingness to use it. The commando in the wall sucked in a slow, ragged breath.

But he shook himself back to the real world. The real world that had snipers watching the halls.

"Anyone got any explosives on you?" Jack asked Gold.

"Some C-12," Jorge took a small patch from his pack. It was like the ones used to breach walls at the other Innie bases on Reach.

"Give it here," Jack took it, then set a five second countdown. With a flick of a wrist, he stuck it to the chest of the Innie in the wall. Then he took cover behind the doorframe. The others followed suit.

It wasn't wrong… was it? The Innie was dead, or was going to be really soon. It was a miracle that a rib shard hadn't pierced his heart already, and killed him instantly. That was mercy, right? And the explosion that followed formed a perfect Spartan-sized hole. Jack dove in it, rolling to his feet.

There she was.

Smaller than him, obviously. Smaller than Dr. Halsey. Almost pixielike. How could someone so small be so infuriating? But he recognized her face. General Julia Asef. On the ground, covered in rubble, oversized headset still on her head. Surrounded by communication technology and the three technicians required to operate it. She might as well have been alone.

"Hello, Jack," She said calmly as she removed the headphones with one hand. The room was made of what looked like pale bricks. Weird choice of walling for an apartment so high.

"So nice of you to show up," Jack whispered, quiet and cold as the grave. He fired a single shot into her left knee. She screamed and fell like her legs had been cut out from under her. Jack felt his knife from the _Waterloo_ on his hip. Maybe he would cut her legs out from under her. Sheila jumped into the room, as one of the technicians raised a pistol and fired at Jack's head. A small-caliber shot; he barely felt it. Jack raised his rifle to his head and fired. The man dropped.

"Michael," Asef gasped, probably more from the bullet in her knee than feelings for her dead subordinate. She was a cold bitch, with no heart. Jack shot her other knee.

She didn't scream as much as moan. Jack smiled. Another tech lunged for a gun, and Jack blew him apart with heavy bullets. One more, a girl. Jack pointed his gun at her and cocked his head.

"Fascists," She hissed. Jack smiled a little more, tightening his grip a little. Jorge jumped in.

"Liz Morgan," Asef gasped. "Just a little girl when the UNSC destroyed her home and killed her brother,"

Jack's smile evaporated. These _things_ didn't deserve names.

"She has a daughter. Andrea Morgan. She has blue eyes," Asef said.

Jack clenched his teeth.

"I'm not afraid to die," Liz spat as Li jumped in.

"I know," Asef smiled peacefully. "That is why you've done so well, and it's because of people like you that the UNSC will topple. But whether you live or die is no longer your prerogative. It's mine, and Jack's,"

"Yours?" Jack chuckled coldly. "I don't think so. If you were stupid enough to be here in the open, you don't deserve to have control over another life,"

"Stupid?" Asef chuckled. Her face was pale, in the light of the dark blood seeping from her knees. "You of all people should understand martyrdom, my young friend,"

"What are you talking about?" Jack growled.

"Jack, look at the walls," Sheila said. Jack was too focused to hear the fear in her voice as he gestured to the pale bricks lining the room. He ignored her.

"I wanted to have one Spartan on our side. You refused. I wanted two Spartans to be out of this war. You said no," Asef sighed. "You should have dealt with me peaceably, Jack. Now I get to take four Spartans from the UNSC," She said, pulling her left hand from the pocket. Holding something. A detonator on a dead man switch. If she let go of that…

Asef smiled the smile of one who'd beaten a champion at chess. The C-12 plastic explosive bricks lining the walls gleamed.

Jack leapt-but he was too slow. Asef released the switch.

The world flashed white, then nothing. Emptier and deeper than the darkest black.


	32. Chapter 32

_**Author's Motherf#king Announcement**_**: This will be incredibly long and boring for you guys, and arrogantly indulgent for me. But it relates to the sequel to Into the Fire. So, just skip to the last paragraph. Or something. It's ok, I would too. This is more for me, to collect my thoughts, than for you. Take a little peek into my madness. **

**You may not know this, angry readers, but my ultimate dream is to be a professional writer. I want to be published. I want a little shelf full of books, with my name on them, with my words in them. A legacy. In this epic little pseudo-quest, I decided to practice with fan fiction. The first results were… messy. The first good, hence official, result was baby Into the Fire, my most popular story. It was incredibly fun! I learned massive amounts. But I have a terrible secret.**

**Little baby Into the Fire… was an accident. *gasps of shock***

**It's true! A binge of epic controlled substances that should be illegal (namely Kyle-091, caffeine, and boredom) and two hours of glorious passion, and Jack got sucked into Halo. And it all started. **

**My deepest shame. Because while Into the Fire is my most popular story, more so that I ever thought possible(I'm not an ambitious guy. The bar was at a comfortable low), it's so deeply flawed that I'm almost scared of it. I learned so much… but those learning experiences came at a price. **

**I thought my story sucked! I put the credit for its pseudo-success down as the result of the controversy that surrounded its conception, with general MB as… I don't know, stepmom. Or something. **

**Anyway! I was reluctant to pump out a sequel, for the same reason that terrible movies should not have sequels. But something awesome happened. **

**Months later, I read my own freakin' story. And while it was riddled with mistakes, it had something special. It had something that terrible and well-written stories lack, and atrociously spelled great stories had: heart. I dumped a lot of me into it, and it paid dividends. I grew to love my own shameful mistake. **

**While my new, shiny fic (Yankee Knights) may be as perfect as my current level of skill can maintain, it's not Into the Fire. I've toyed with the idea of making it a close companion story. **

**But I've caved to public pressure. I'm writing a sequel-I've got a solid prologue and the beginnings of an outline. While an underlying theme of Into the Fire was friendship, Thicker than Water (A working title, of course) will be more focused on family, both past and future. A lot of questions will be answered. I'm posting the prologue and first chapter on June 14, and hopefully a big chapter every seven days from then on. As for my current story, Yankee Knights, … I guess it'll go on the back burner. We'll see. As always, I appreciate your thoughts and reviews. **


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